Mrs.  Annie  Green 


Opie  READ 


Mrs.   Annie   Green 


A  Romance 

By 
Opie   P.    Read. 


Chicago  and  New  York: 
Rand,  McNally  &  Company, 

Publishers. 


COPYRIGHT,  1889,  BY  RAND,  MCNALLY  &  Co. 


MRS  ANNIE  GREEN. 


CHAPTER   I. 

We  were  all  perplexed,  I  especially. 
I  have  never  had  the  patience  to  find 
pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  a  mys 
terious  person  ;  and,  when  a  woman  —  I 
say  woman,  for  I  never  bother  myself  at 
all  about  a  man  —  assumes  an  air  of  mys 
tery,  I  can  not  help  but  feel  that  she 
owes  me  an  explanation,  if  not  an  apology. 
I  don't  suppose  that  this  will  be  read  by 
very  many  people  who  have  heard  of  me, 
for  the  better  part  of  my  life  has  been 
spent  in  the  editorial  rooms  of  a  large 
daily  newspaper.  I  am  James  Cardison 
Barker,  the  man  who  wrote  many  articles 


M130308 


&  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

for  which  Colonel  Henry  Brown,  editor  of 
a  great  paper,  received  credit.  I  had 
taken,  as  newspaper  men  always  say,  a 
much-needed  and  well-earned  "  lay-off," 
and  was  spending  my  time  at  Blue  Rock 
Springs,  an  out-of-the-way  summer  re 
sort.  Shortly  after  my  arrival,  there 
came  a  woman  about  whom,  I  soon  dis 
covered,  there  was  an  air  of  mystery.  Her 
name  was  Mrs.  Annie  Green,  the  wife — 
so  our  landlord  informed  me — of  old  S. 
H.  Green,  the  millionaire.  There  were 
very  few  boarders  at  the  Blue  Rock  House, 
and  I  soon  received  an  introduction  to  Mrs. 
Green.  She  bowed,  with  overwrought 
unconcern,  and,  laconically  answering  a 
question,  turned  and  left  me.  That 
evening,  when  I  entered  the  parlor  where 
Mrs.  Green  and  several  young  ladies  were 
singing,  Mrs.  Green  arose  and  left  the 
room.  I  was  {*^noyed.  She  was  not  sa 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  J 

pretty  that  she  should  hide  her  beauty. 
At  the  supper  table  I  sat  near  her. 

"Delightful  weather  we  are  having," 
said  I.  She  made  no  reply,  did  not  even 
raise  her  eyes.  One  of  the  boarders, 
known  as  Clam  Benson,  snorted,  and  an 
impertinent  boy,  noticing  my  embarrass 
ment,  said: 

"Yes;  it's  good  weather  now,  but  it 
rained  yesterday." 

After  supper,  while  I  was  sitting  on 
a  bench,  smoking  a  cigar,  Benson  joined 
me,  and  said: 

"That  Mrs.  Green  is  a  queer  piece." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "and  she  carries  her 
queerness  to  the  outer  boundary  line  of 
politeness." 

"She  needn't  be  so  skittish,"  Benson 
said.  "I  met  her  down  at  the  spring  this 
morning,  and  offered  to  hand  her  a  dipper 
of  water,  but  she  declined  the  courtesy; 


8  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

then,  when  I  had  put  down  the  dipper,  she 
took  it  up  and  waited  on  herself.  So  far 
as  I  am  concerned,  she  may  take  care  of 
herself." 

"Which  she  seems  disposed  to  do/1  I 
rejoined. 

"What  is  your  idea  of  her?"  Benson 
asked. 

"I  hardly  know.  It  can  not  be  that  she 
is  deficient  in  good  breeding,  nor  can  it 
be  that  she  is  naturally  shy." 

"No;  and  that's  why  I  think  there's 
something  wrong  about  her." 

"I  don't  suppose  that  it  is  any  of  our 
business,"  said  I,  "but  I  must  confess  that 
she  annoys  me.  Probably,  if  she  had 
shown  a  disposition  to  cultivate  my 
acquaintance,  I  should  have  thought  noth 
ing  of  her." 

I  could  not  keep  my  mind  off  the  wo 
man.  She  was  very  young.  Her  eyes — 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN  9 

I  had  once  got  a  good  look  at  them — 
were  brown,  soft,  and  full  of  expression. 
At  night,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  her  face  came  up 
before  me.  "Confound  the  woman!"  I 
muttered,  as  I  turned  over  and  tried  to 
sleep.  At  breakfast,  the  next  morning, 
I  sat  opposite  Mrs.  Green,  She  was 
talking  as  I  approached  the  table,  but, 
when  I  sat  down,  she  ceased  to  speak. 
Again  I  caught  sight  of  her  eyes.  She 
blushed,  I  thought. 

"What  a  fool  I  am,"  I  mused,  as  I 
strolled  along  the  mountain  side.  "Why 
do  I  allow  that  woman,  a  married  wo 
man,  to  disturb  me?  I  have  lost  patience 
with  her."  A  comforting  reflection,  surely. 
What  cared  she  whether  or  not  I  had  lost 
patience  with  her?  When  I  returned  to 
the  house,  I  saw  her  playing  with  several 
children.  She  laughed  gleefully,  and  I 
thought  that  I  had  never  before  heard 


IO  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

such  music.  As  I  approached,  she  stopped 
playing  and  sought  her  room. 

"How  long  has  Mrs.  Green  been  mar 
ried?"  I  asked  of  the  landlord. 

"Not  very  long,  I  believe." 

"What  sort  of  a  man  is  her  husband?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  him,  but  I 
do  know  that  he's  got  lots  of  money. 
He'll  be  here  in  a  few  days  from  now,  and 
you  will  have  a  chance  to  see  him." 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  II 


CHAPTER   II. 

I  was  anxious  to  see  Mr.  Green,  and  I 
rather  impatiently  awaited  his  coming. 
We  were  all  on  the  gallery  when  he  ar 
rived.  Mrs.  Green  met  him,  without  any 
exhibition  of  gladness.  I  didn't  like  him. 
He  was  a  large,  brusque  man,  with  bushy 
whiskers  and  heavy  jaws,  suggesting  the 
merciless  firmness  with  which  he  held 
people  who  had  business  with  him.  When 
I  was  introduced  to  him  he  shook  hands 
with  me  in  a  matter-of-course  way.  He 
narrowly  eyed  his  wife,  who,  after  the 
arrival  of  her  husband,  seemed  to  have 
lost  much  of  her  unreasonable  reserve. 
At  dinner  she  actually  spoke  to  me . 

"How  do  you  like  this  place?"  she 
asked. 

"Very  much,"  I  rejomeu. 


12  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Good  place  for  a  man  that  ain't  got 
nothing  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Green,  "but  it's 
a  mighty  slow  place  for  a  man  of  business. 
Got  no  telegraph  office — got  nothing." 

"People  generally  come  to  such  places 
to  escape  business,"  I  suggested. 

"Seems  that  way,"  he  replied.  "There's 
too  much  escaping  business.  The  hum- 
buggery  of  overwork  is  hurting  trade 
everywhere.  When  a  man  works  a  few 
months,  he  cries  overwork,  and  wants  to 
quit.  It's  all  foolishness." 

"It  is  not  foolishness  with  me,"  I  said. 

"What  business  are  you  in  ?" 

"I  am  a  newspaper  writer." 

He  slightly  frowned,  in  disapproval, 
and,  after  a  few  moments,  said: 

"There  are  too  many  newspaper  men 
in  this  country.  They  keep  trade  unset 
tled.  Those  devilish  interviewers  ought 
to  be  killed." 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  13 

"Mr.  Barker,  I  understand,  is  not  an 
interviewer,"  remarked  Mrs.  Green. 

"Annie,  you  don't  know  anything  about 
it." 

Her  face  colored.  "Interviewers,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Green,  "write  lies.  They  put 
words  in  a  man's  mouth — " 

"Yes,"  I  broke  in,  "they  often  put  gram 
matical  sentences  into  ungrammatical 
mouths." 

Mrs.  Green  smiled.  Mr.  Green  drank 
his  coffee  with  a  vulgar  gurgle;  then,  put 
ting  down  his  cup,  he  shoved  back  his 
chair,  took  out  a  quill  tooth-pick,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  make  himself  obnoxious.  I  saw 
that  he  was  a  brute,  and  I  knew  that  his 
wife — whom  by  this  time  I  had  discovered 
to  be  strikingly  handsome — could  not 
love  him. 

Had  she  married  him  for  money  ?  Could 
a  woman  with  eyes  so  sincere  sell  herself? 


14  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

Late  that  evening  I  lay  on  a  bench  in  9 
summer-house,  situated  in  a  little  green 
cove  of  the  mountain,  not  far  from  the 
hotel.  Benson  and  I  had  been  smoking 
and  discussing  affairs  which  should  not 
have  concerned  us.  Benson  grew  tired 
and  sauntered  away.  As  I  lay  there  on 
the  bench,  I  heard  voices  outside,  and 
recognized  them  as  the  voices  of  Green 
and  his  wife. 

"I  am  tired  walking,"  she  said.  "Let 
us  return  to  the  hotel.'* 

"You  are  always  tired  when  I  am  with 
you,"  he  replied.  "You  needn't  be  in  such 
a  hurry  to  get  back.  That  fool  newspa* 
per  man  is  off  somewhere  playing  poker, 
probably." 

"  Why  do  you  speak  of  him  ? "  she 
asked. 

"Oh,  I  saw  how  you  looked  at  him. 
You  promised  me  faithfully  that  you 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  15 

wouldn't  flirt.  I  thought  that  a  retired 
place  like  this — " 

"Mr.  Green,  for  goodness'  sake,  hush. 
You  talk  to  me  as  though  I  had  no  sense 
of  responsibility.  I  did  not  flirt  before  I 
was  married,  and,  Heaven  knows,  I  have 
no  disposition  to  flirt  now.  I  have  avoided 
the  society  of  men  since  I  came  to  this  place, 
and  not  until  your  arrival  did  I  notice  the 
fool  newspaper  man,  as  you  term  him." 

"Well  I  am  going  back  to  town  to-mor 
row,  and  I  want  you  to  promise  that  you 
will  not  speak  to  him." 

"You  are  unjust." 

"But  not  unreasonable." 

"Yes,  you  are  both." 

-'Annie,  remember  that  you  used  to 
scribble  considerably.  Scribblers  lean  to 
ward  each  other." 

"What  difference  does  that  make  if 
their  shoulders  don't  touch  ?" 


1 6  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Annie,  don't  be  foolish.      You  know 

I  never  could  excuse   an   attempt  to   be 

epigrammatical. " 

"You  can  not  excuse  anything,  it  seems." 
"If  you  loved  me,  you  would  not  find 

fault  with  my  exactness." 

"//"  I    loved  you,"   she  said  in  a  low 

voice.      "You  should  not  speak  of  love 

You  know  why  I  married  you." 

"Come  on,  then;  let  us  go  to  the  house." 
Why  had  she  married  him  ?     Again  I 

lost  patience. 


MBS.  ANNIE  GREEN.  If 


CHAPTER  III. 

Mr.  Green  took  his  departure  early  the 
next  morning.  His  wife  remained  in  her 
room  until  dinner-time.  At  the  dinner- 
table  she  scarcely  noticed  me,  but  at  night 
I  met  her  in  the  parlor.  We  sat  on  a  sofa. 
She  hesitated  before  taking  a  seat  beside 
me,  but,  as  all  the  chairs  were  occupied, 
she  seemed  to  throw  off  a  resolution  which 
she  had  made,  and  sat  down. 

"Your  husband  left  us  this  morning,  I 
believe?" 

"Yes ;  he  can  not  stay  long  away  from 
his  business.  He  does  not  believe  much 
in  pleasure." 

Then  we  began  to  talk  of  books.  She 
was  brilliant.  Her  eyes  sparkled.  When 
I  bade  her  good  night,  she  said; 


1 8  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"I  must  thank  you  for  one  of  the  most 
enjoyable  evenings  I  have  ever  spent." 

"Old  fellow,"  I  mused,  as  I  lay  in  bed, 
vainly  trying  to  sleep,  "you'd  better  leave 
this  place.  You  have  not  seen  very  much 
of  society,  remember,  and  you  do  not 
know  how  to  deal  with  a  brilliant  woman. 
You  might  fall  in  love  with  her."  Might 
fall  in  love  with  her!  I  was  already  in 
love  with  her.  I  fully  made  up  my  mind 
to  go  away,  but  when  I  saw  her  the 
next  morning  my  sensible  resolve  flew  to 
pieces.  That  night  we  sat  alone.  We 
had  again  talked  of  books,  and  again  I 
had  seen  her  eyes  sparkle. 

"I  am  going  away  to-morrow,"  said  I. 

"Going  away,"  she  repeated,  looking  up 
in  surprise. 

"Yes." 

"Why  are  you  going  ?     Are  you  tired 
of  this  place  ?" 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  19 

•JNo;  this  place  is— is  too  much  of  a 
heaven  for  me." 

Her  eye-lids  fell.  "Perhaps  you  are 
right,"  she  said.  "Would  it  be  improper 
for  ms  to  say  something  concerning  my 
self  ?  No,"  she  added,  slowly  shaking  her 
head,  "I  can  not  say  it." 

She  arose,  and,  extending  her  hand, 
said,  "Good-bye." 

It  was  wrong — I  knew  it  at  the  time — - 
but  I  kissed  her  hand. 

I  did  not  see  her  the  next  morning 
She  did  not  come  to  breakfast.  I  returned 
to  my  work — to  my  work  of  writing  against 
conviction.  I  was  determined  that  hard 
work  should  drive  all  thoughts  of  that 
woman  from  my  mind,  but  months  passed) 
and  still  the  picture  was  as  bright  as 
ever.  One  night  I  casually  took  up  a 
telegraphic  dispavch  that  had  just  come 
ia 


2O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Look  out,"  said  the  telegraph  editor, 
"don't  lose  that." 

The  dispatch  had  fallen  on  the  floor.  I 
had  read  these  words  : 

CHICAGO,  December  2. 

S.  H.  Green,  the  millionaire,  died  suddenly  this 
afternoon. 

I  went  back  to  my  desk  and  sat  down, 
but  could  not  write  a  line. 

Two  months  later  I  went  to  Chicago. 
I  had  no  business  in  that  city,  but  I  went. 
I  called  a  hackman  and  told  him  to  drive 
me  to  the  residence  of  the  late  S.  H. 
Green. 

"What  excuse  have  I  for  coming?"  I 
mused,  as  I  leaned  back  against  the  cush 
ion.  "  What  must  I  tell  her?  Why  did 
I  not  think  of  all  this  before  I  came?"  I 
was  just  on  the  point  of  telling  the  hack 
man  to  stop  when  he  drew  up  in  front  of 
a  magnificent-looking  house. 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  21 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  said  as  he  opened 
the  door. 

I  ascended  the  steps,  hesitated,  and 
returned  to  the  sidewalk.  "  What  sense 
is  there  in  backing  out  now?"  I  said. 
Again  I  ascended  the  steps.  This  time  I 
rang  the  door  bell.  A  woman  appeared. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Green  live  here?"  I  asked. 

"  This  is  her  house,  but  she  and  several 
friends  are  traveling  in  Europe." 

I  returned  to  my  work.  In  Europe, 
traveling  with  friends.  Probably  she 
would  marry  a  friend  before  she  returned. 
Shortly  after  my  return  the  editor  of  the 
paper,  Colonel  Henry  Brown,  sent  for  me. 
He  had  spoken  of  sending  a  man  to 
Europe.  My  heart  fluttered  with  excite 
ment. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Barker,"  said  he  when 
I  entered  his  room . 

I    sat  down.     He  continued:     "Mr. 


33  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

Barker,  you  have  done  a  great  deal  of 
excellent  work  for  this  paper,  but  for 
some  time  I  have  noticed  that  your  mat 
ter  is  not  up  to  your  former  standard.  ' 
We  had  to  kill  two  of  your  articles  last 
night.  You  have  taken  up  a  semi-senti 
mental  style  that  is  not  at  all  consistent 
with  the  practical  cast  of  our  paper.  You 
understand  my  position .  The  public  has 
no  sympathy  for  a  newspaper  that  falls 
short  of  a  rather  critical  requirement,  and  I 
am,  of  course,  guided  by  the  public.  I 
would  like  to  retain  you,  but  such  a  course 
would  not  be  advisable.  I  will  assist 
you  in  getting  another  place/' 

"  I  thank  you,  sir." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  I  am  always  willing 
to  help  you.  Don't  you  think  you  might 
get  a  place  on  some  of  the  story  papers?  " 

"  Don't  let    my  welfare  concer    you 
sir,"  I  replied.     "  By  the  way,   I   notice 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  23 

that  the  sentimental  stuff  of  which  you 
complain  is  widely  copied,  and  I  also 
notice  that  much  of  it  is  credited  to  you 
personally." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,  and  it  is  one  of  th 
reasons  why  I  no  longer  want  you.  I  am  a 
politician,  and  desire  to  be  known  as  such. 
I  don't  want  people  to  think  that  I  am 
a  literary  man,  for  that  would  injure  me." 
The  tone  of  his  voice  was  sarcastic.  He 
smiled.  How  I  did  yearn  to  mash  that 
smile. 

I  bade  all  the  men  good-bye,  and  left 
the  building.  I  had  but  a  few  dollars,  as 
I  had  foolishly  lived  up  to  my  income. 
My  first  thought  was  to  secure  a  position 
on  some  newspaper.  I  called  on  a  num 
ber  of  editors,  but  in  every  case  was  told 
that  my  services  were  not  needed.  I 
went  to  my  room  with  the  determination 
of  devoting  myself  to  literature.  I  was 


*4  MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

sore  at  heart,  but  I  turned  to  my  work 
with  a  pleasure  that  I  had  never  felt  in 
doing  editorial  work.     I  expected  to  meet 
with  disappointment,  but,  to  my  surprise, 
my  first  story  was  accepted  and  liberally 
paid  for  by  a  magazine  editor.     At  the 
end   of  a  year's  time   I  was   pretty  well 
known  in  literary  circles,  and  was  encour 
aged  to  write  a  novel.     I  knew  that  this 
was   hazardous,   but  I    began  the   work. 
Colonel  Henry  Brown  came  out  as  a  can 
didate  for  Congress.  The  spirit  of  revenge 
is  not  very  largely  developed  in  me,  but 
I  put  aside  my  novel  and  devoted  myself 
to  the  work  of  writing  a  satire  in  which 
that  gentleman  conspicuously  figured 


MRS.   AtfNIE  GKBBN.  35 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I  knew  some  of  Colonel  Henry  Brown's 
weak  points;  so  it  was  with  ease  rather 
than  with  trouble  that  I  held  him  up 
to  merciless  ridicule.  The  Colonel  sold 
his  stock  in  the  great  daily,  and  was 
determined  to  fight  his  way  into  Congress. 
He  gave  up  all  business,  and,  seemingly 
without  calculating  the  chances  of  failure, 
entered  the  race. 

One  evening,  just  after  I  had  finished 
my  satire,  and  while  I  was  standing  on  a 
street  corner  watching  a  procession  of 
laboring  men,  an  old  newspaper  acquaint 
ance  accosted  me. 

"Going  to  hear  Colonel  Brown's  speech?" 
said  he. 


26  MRS.    ANNIE  GREBtf. 

"No;  I  don't  care  to  hear  him.  What 
do  you  think  of  his  chances  ?" 

"He'll  go  through  like  an  eel.  All  the 
laboring  men  are  for  him.  In  a  speech 
last  night  he  declared  that  he  had  with 
drawn  from  the  paper  which  his  intelli 
gence  and  energy  had  made,  simply 
because  the  other  stockholders  objected 
to  his  advocacy  of  the  workingmen's 


cause." 


"I  suppose  they  believed  him." 

"Of  course  they  did.  My  dear  fellow, 
don't  you  know  that  a  shrewd  politician 
can  make  a  laboring  man  believe  almost 
anything  ?  A  large  number  of  these 
people,  you  know,  are  ignorant;  and  while 
ignorance  is  sometimes  vicious,  it  is 
nearly  always  credulous." 

"Are  you  going  to  vote  for  Brown  ?" 
I  asked. 

"Well,"    he     replied,     shrugging     his 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  2J 

shoulders,  "I  have  nothing  to  gain,  one 
jvay  or  another.  He  always  treated  me 
well  enough  when  I  was  on  his  paper." 

My  satire  came  out  on  the  following 
day.  In  the  language  of  a  comparison  that 
I  heard  on  the  street,  "it  took  like  whisky 
in  a  prohibition  town."  The  evening 
papers  copied  it.  Politicians  read  it  to 
shouting  crowds  of  laboring  men.  Brown 
attempted  to  answer  it  in  a  speech  that  he 
endeavored  to  read  from  manuscript,  but 
the  crowd  hissed  him.  The  satire  had  ap 
peared  anonymously,  and  there  was  much 
speculation  concerning  its  authorship,  but 
fortunately,  I  was  not  suspected.  I  say 
fortunately,  for  I  did  not  care  to  be  the  hero 
of  such  an  hour.  Popular  opinion  under 
went  a  change.  The  workingmen  deserted 
Brown,  and,  yielding  to  the  importunities 
of  sagacious  friends,  the  self-sacrificing 
Colonel  withdrew  from  the  race. 


28  Mitt   ANNIE  GREEK. 

The  following  evening  I  sat  in  my  room 
gloating — yes,  I  confess  it,  gloating — over 
Brown's  political  downfall.  I  had  long 
known  that  he  was  a  treacherous  man, 
but,  while  I  worked  for  him,  I  had  looked 
with  a  charitable  eye  upon  him.  My  mus 
ings  were  so  pleasant  that  I  had  given  my 
self  up  to  the  influence  of  a  congratulatory 
reverie,  when  a  rap  on  my  door  aroused  me, 

"Come  in." 

Colonel  Brown  entered.  I  arose  and  re 
quested  him  to  be  seated.  He  sat  down, 
apparently  without  noticing  me,  and  slowly 
began  to  take  off  his  gloves.  He  spread  his 
gloves  over  one  of  his  knees;  then,  satisfied 
with  the  arrangement,  looked  at  me. 

"Well?"  said  I. 

"Barker  —  excuse  me  —  Mr.  Barker, 
some  one  has  informed  me  that  you  are 
the  author  of  a  piece — shall  I  call  it  a 
piece  of  treachery  ?" 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  2$ 

"I  must  grant  you  the  liberty  of  apply 
ing  your  own  terms  to  your  own  subjects 
of  conversation,"  said  I. 

"Thank  you,"  he  rejoined. 

"Not  at  all,  but  what  were  you  going 
to  say  ?  Pray  do  not  permit  a  polite  skir 
mish  to  waive  aside  the  battle." 

He  grinned  maliciously.  "Yes,  I  have 
been  told  that  you  are  the  author  of  a 
piece  of  treachery  that  has  vilified  me.  I 
refer  to  the  so-called  satire  that  recently 
appeared.  Was  I  correctly  informed  ?" 

"I  doubt  not  that  your  informant,  on  one 
occasion  at  least,  was  a  truthful  person. " 

"Then  you  wrote  it?" 

"Yes."  • 

He  arose  and  put  his  gloves  into  his 
pocket.  His  lips  grew  white  and  his  eyes 
assumed  an  expression  which  in  one  flash 
showed  me  the  deep  baseness  of  his  nature. 

"As  you  have  gained  the  information 


3°  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

which  inspired  your  visit,  do  you  not  think 
that  your  withdrawal  would  be  appropri 
ate?" 

Another  malicious  grin.  "You  think 
that  you  have  done  a  great  piece  of  work," 
said  he. 

"I  have  no  doubt  done  the  country  a 
valuable  service." 

"Yes,  and  one  that  you  shall  regret." 

"Impossible.  A  man  never  regrets 
having  served  his  country." 

''Oh,  I  forgot  your  patriotism.  Perhaps 
I  shall  call  upon  you  to  perform  another 
service,  but  it  may  be  dangerous.  It 
would  be  a  great  pity  to  cut  short  your 
literary  career,  but,  then,  such  an  event 
might  be  of  service  to  the  press.  Tired 
proof-readers  and  worn-out  compositors 
might  rejoice.  I  have  the  pleasure,  sir, 
of  slapping  your  face." 

Before  I  could  realize  the  meaning  of 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  3! 

his  words  he  had  slapped  me,  but  then, 
with  a  quickness  which  surprised  even 
myself,  I  knocked  him  down.  I  did  not 
stop  at  this.  I  kicked  him,  dragged  him 
to  the  door,  out  into  the  hallway,  and 
tumbled  him  down  stairs. 

I  returned  to  my  room  and  sat  down. 
Then  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  have 
killed  the  Colonel.  I  went  back  into  the 
hallway  and  looked  down  the  stairs.  He 
was  gone.  I  raised  a  window  and  looked 
out.  I  saw  him  walking  slowly  down  the 
street.  "I  shall  be  arrested,"  I  mused. 
This  reflection  was  far  from  being  enjoy 
able.  "Well,  I  must  wait,"  I  thought,  "and 
take  the  consequences.  Having  more  in 
fluence  than  I,  he  can  make  it  very  uncom* 
fortable  for  me.  He  doubtless  thought 
that  I  would  resent  his  insult  by  challeng 
ing  him."  I  waited  and  waited,  but  no 
officer  came. 


32  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

Several  days  passed  and  still  I  was  not 
arrested,  but  every  footstep  on  the  stair 
way  startled  me.  One  evening  my  friend 
Cartwright,  the  humorist,  called  on  me. 
During  several  years  he  had  done  para 
graphic  and  sketch  work  on  Brown's  pa 
per.  His  favored  position  caused  much 
dissatisfaction  among  unimaginative  edi 
torial  writers  and  news  condensers. 

"Come  in,  Cartwright ;  I  am  glad  to 
see  you." 

4<Glad  you're  glad,"  he  replied,  as  he 
sat  down,  "  What  makes  you  so  pale, 
Barker  ?  You  look  as  though  you  have 
been  associating  with  ghosts." 

"I  haven't  been  very  well  of  late." 

"By  the  way,  you  laid  Brown  out  in 
first-rate  shape,  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  if 
there  ever  was  a  scoundrel,  he's  the 


man." 


"I  am  surprised  to  hear  you  talk  so, 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  33 

Cartwright.  You  always  appeared  to  be 
his  friend." 

''Oh,  yes,  I  had  to  be,  so  long  as  my 
daily  bread  depended  on  his  favor.  I  tell 
you  what's  a  fact,  a  man  who  has  a  wife 
and  six  children  to  support  can  shut  his 
eyes  to  a  great  many  things,  How  are 
you  getting  along  with  your  book?" 

"Slowly.  It  is  such  hard  work  that 
rapid  progress  is  impossible." 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  drop  your  nom 
de  plume  and  use. your  own  name.  The 
pen  name  business  is  about  run>m  the 
ground.  Why,  the  humorists  are  now 
writing  under  their  own  names,  and  if  any 
man  should  be  ashamed  of  his  work,  I  think 
the  humorist  is  the  man.  Say,  you  talk 
about  the  difficulties  of  straight  literature. 
Why,  my  dear  fellow,  it  is  nothing.  You 
should  attempt  humor.  It  requires  quick 

description  —  a    portrait    made    by    one 
8 


34  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

scratch  of  the  pen  ;  an  insight  as  sudden 
as  a  flash,  and  yet,  must  all  along  show  a 
profound  respect  for  the  reader's  imagina 
tion.  You  must  permit  a  man  to  see  a 
point,  yet  you  must  not  show  it  to  him. 
You  must  leave  him  under  the  impression 
*hat  he  is  a  discoverer.  Straight  litera 
ture  is  altogether  different.  You  can  yield 
to  mood.  You  can  be  gay  or  sad,  light 
or  heavy,  prolix  or  condensed.  You  can 
shorten  conversation  or  string  out  descrip 
tion  ;  you  can  commit  a  murder  or  bury  a 
lovely  child  that  has  been  rudely  snatched 
like  a  flower  whose  beauty  has  just 
begun  to  dawn  with  a  promise  of  com 
ing  splendor ;  you  can  act  the  fool  with 
a  negro  character  or  play  the  profound 
scholar  with  a  sage;  but  the  humorist — 
the  unfortunate  painter  whose  colors 
must  always  be  bright — kills  his  gentler 
impulses,  and  tickles  the  public's  nose 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  35 

with  the  perfumed  feather  of  a  red 
bird." 

"Then,"  said  I,  amused  at  my  friend, 
"why  do  you  not  write  straight  litera 
ture  ?" 

"What  is  the  use  ?  If  I  were  to  under 
take  it  now,  people  would  say:  'Cartwright 
has  written  himself  out.  He  has  become 
dull.1  They  would  look  upon  a  serious 
character  as  a  grave  presumption,  and 
would  declare  that  my  pathos  was  over 
drawn. — Barker,  I  have  something  to  tell 
you,  but  you  must  first  promise  that  you 
will  forgive  me." 

"I  promise." 

"Hold  on;  do  not  promise  so  lightly, 
for  I  assure  you  that  what  I  shall  say  will 
deeply  concern  you — will  enrage  you,  in 
fact." 

"No  matter,  Cartwright,  I  promise." 

"Well,  now,  remember  your  promise." 


36  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

He  meditated  a  few  moments,  and  then 
continued  :    "You  know  that  I  was  almost 
a  slave  while  Brown  was  connected  with 
the  paper.      I   was  in  debt,   and  I    could 
not,    in  justice  to  my  family,    afford   to 
assert  my  independence.     One  day  while 
you  were  out — let  me  see,  it  was  shortly 
after  Green,  the  millionaire,  died — " 
"Go  ahead,  Cartwright,  go  ahead." 
"Give  me  time.     Brown  and  I  were  sit 
ting  in  his  room,  when  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  I  have  ever  oeen,  entered. 
She  introduced  herself,  and  then  asked  : 
"Is  Mr.  Barker  in  ?' 
"  'No,'  Brown  replied. 
"She  seemed  to  be  greatly  disappointed, 
4nd  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep  sadness,  'I 
shall  start  for  Europe  to-morrow,  and  I 
would  like  very  much  to  see  him.     He  is 
a  dear  friend  of  mine.     If  I  leave  a  note 
will  you  please  give  it  to  him  ?' 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  37 

"The  Colonel  replied  that  he  would. 
She  sat  down  and  wrote  a  note,  put  it  in  an 
envelope,  and  handed  it  to  Brown.  When 
she  had  gone,  Brown  turned  to  me,  and  said: 

"'I  have  seen  that  woman  before.  She 
is  worth  several  millions,  and,  if  I  mistake 
not,  she  is  in  love  with  Barker.  Now  I 
can  understand  why  he  has  acted  so 
strangely  of  late.  I  arn  going  to  see 
what's  in  the  note.  Say  a  word  about  it 
and  out  you  go.'  He  tore  open  the  en 
velope,  took  out  the  note,  and  read,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  remember,  as  follows  : 

"  <MY  DEAR  MR.  BARKER:  I  hope  you  have  not 
forgotten  the  delightful  evenings  we  spent  at  the 
Blue  Rock  Hotel.  I  shall  never  forget  them.  As 
you  doubtless  know,  my  husband  is  dead.  You 
could  not  have  failed  to  notice  how  ill -suited  to  each 
other  we  were.  I  long  to  see  you,  and  tell  you  why 
I  married  him.  Of  course,  I  respect  his  memory, 
but  I  could  never  love  him.  I  will  call  again  to 
morrow,  at  one  o'clock.  I  am  going  to  Europe. 
How  I  wish  you  would  consent  to  make  one  of  our 
party.  Yours,  ANNIE  GREEN/ 


38  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Just  hold  on,  Barker.  Wait  till  I  get 
through.  Sit  down,  now,  and  don't  look 
so  wild.  Hanged  if  you  don't  frighten 
me.  Brown  turned  to  me,"  Cartwright 
continued,  when  I  had  dropped  into  an 
arm  chair,  "and  said : 

11  'Barker  shall  never  see  this  note.' 

"Why?'  I  asked. 

"'Oh,  I've  got  my  reasons.  You  see, 
I've  been  a  widower  quite  long  enough, 
and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  can  win  that 
woman.  Barker  would  simply  squander 
her  money,  and  it  wouldn't  be  right  to  let 
her  marry  him.' 

"I  was  determined  to  tell  you,  but  just 
as  you  came  into  my  room,  the  faces  of 
my  wife  and  children  came  up  before  me. 
I  tried  to  argue  that  if  I  told  you,  you 
might  reward  me,  'but  that  would  put  me 
in  the  position  of  a  beggar,'  I  thought, 
'and,  after  all,  the  marriage  might  not 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  39 

take  place/  so  I  did  not  tell  you.  Brown 
managed  to  send  you  away  to  be  gone 
beyond  the  time  appointed  for  the  meet 
ing.  When  Mrs.  Green  came  in,  Brown 
said  to  her: 

'"I  delivered  your  note,  madam,  but 
Mr.  Barker  did  not  seem  to  regard  it  with 
much  favor.  He  tore  it  into  pieces  and 
threw  the  scraps  on  the  floor.  I  gathered 
them  up,  and  here  they  are.  The  truth  is, 
Barker  is  engaged  to  be  married.' 

"The  expression  of  that  woman's  face 
will  always  haunt  me.  She  gasped  and 
turned  away.  I  was  a  brute  for  not  telling 
her — I  know  I  deserved  to  be  shot — but 
— hold  on,  Barker.  Confound  it,  sit  down. 
Don't  you  strike  me.  Your  promise;  re 
member  it.  Now  sit  there.  I  could  not 
tell  her.  I  went  down  and  saw  her  on  the 
pier,  ready  to  take  passage  on  a  vessel, 
and  I  again  tried  to  tell  her,  but  could  not." 


4O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"You  are  a  liar!  You  could  have  told 
her!" 

"Sit  down,  I  tell  you.  Your  promises 
are  worth  nothing.  D— ri  it,  are  you  try* 
ing  to  choke  me  ?  I'll  not  tell  you  another 
word  if  you  don't  behave  yourself!" 

I  was  almost  wild,  but  I  sat  down. 
Cartwright  brought  water  and  attempted 
to  bathe  my  face,  "but  I  shoved  him  away. 

"You  are  a  villain  !"  I  exclaimed. 

"All  right,  I  won't  tell  you  another 
word." 

He  turned,  opened  the  door,  and  passed 
out.  I  heard  him  going  down  the  stairs. 
I  ran  into  the  liallway,  leaned  over  the 
balustrade,  and  shouted : 

"Cartwright,  come  back!  For  God's 
sake,  come  back !" 

He  stopped,  looked  up,  and  said:  "I  am 
afraid  to  trust  myself  with  a  man  who  can 
not  keep  a  promise." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  4! 

"Come  back,  and  I  swear  that  I  will 
keep  quiet." 

"A  man  who  can  not  keep  a  promise 
can  not  keep  an  oath." 

I  seized  a  heavy  box,  held  it  out  over 
him,  and  said  : 

"Cartwright,  if  you  don't  come  back  I 
will  hurl  this  box  on  you  !  Come  back  !" 

"Well,  put  down  that  devilish  thing." 

I  put  down  the  box,  and  he  slowly  as 
cended  the  stairs. 

"Now,"  said  he,  when  he  had  entered 
the  room,  "I  want  you  to  keep  your  hands 
off  me.  You  act  like  a  madman.  You 
ought  to  have  sense  enough  to  appreciate 
my  position." 

"Go  on  with  your  hellish  recital,  Cart- 
wright,  I  will  remain  quiet." 

"Well,  you  went  to  Chicago,  you  re 
member,  and  when  you  came  back  Brown 
said  that  he  did  not  want  you  any  longer. 


42  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

That,  you  remember,  was  nearly  eighteen 
months  ago.  Brown  found  out  Mrs. 
Green's  address  and  wrote  to  her.  In  fact, 
his  own  traveling  correspondent  joined  the 
party  and  kept  Brown  informed.  She 
answered  his  letter,  and  after  that  they 
wrote  frequently  to  each  other.  I  man 
aged  to  steal  a  letter  that  Brown  received 
from  her.  It  was  written  in  a  frank,  easy 
way,  but  contained  nothing  that  could 
have  encouraged  Brown.  Her  Chicago 
property  was  sold  before  she  returned 
to—" 

"Returned!"  I  exclaimed,  springing  to 
my  feet.  "Has  she  returned?" 

"Yes;  and  she  is  in  this  city.  I  must  go 
now.  Turn  me  loose.  I  don't  know  where 
she  is,  only  that  she  is  in  town.  Confound 
it,  you  have  torn  my  coat." 


MRS,    ANNIE   GREEN.  43 


CHAPTER  V, 

When  Cartwright's  footsteps  passed 
away  from  the  stairs  and  mingled  with  the 
thousands  of  rushing  footsteps  in  the 
street,  I  sat  down  and  tried  to  reason  with 
myself.  Impossible.  Mrs.  Green's  face 
came  up  before  me  and  her  eyes  looked 
at  me  in  dark  reproach.  What  was  I  to 
do?  Advertise  Mrs.  Green  as  though  she 
were  lost?  No.  She  would  treat  the 
advertisement  with  contempt,  and  I  could 
not  blame  her,  for  Brown,  I  knew,  had 
poisoned  her  mind.  I  would  look  for 
Brown  and  compel  him  to  tell  me.  I  went 
into  the  street  and  wandered  aimlessly 
for  a  time,  and  then  I  went  to  Brown's 
residence.  I  did  not  think  of  the  absurdity 


44  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

of  the  visit  until  I  had  rung  the  door-bell. 
I  brushed  past  the  servant,  and  when  he 
turned  upon  me  with  a  look  of  indignant 
inquiry,  I  asked  for  Colonel  Brown.  Just 
then  Brown  came  down  the  stairway.  He 
stopped  when  he  saw  me,  but  he  only 
hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"I  desire  an  interview  with  you,"  said  I. 

His  old  malicious  grin  lurked  about  his 
mouth  as  he  replied  : 

"Wouldn't  you  prefer  to  see  me  in  your 
room  ?" 

"No;.  I  prefer  to  see  you  here." 

"I  did  not  know.  Your  stairs  are  so 
convenient  that — "  Here  he.ceased  speak 
ing  and  grinned  until  I  felt  as  if  I  ought 
to  knock  him  down.  He  led  the  way  into 
a  room.  When  I  had  followed  him,  he 
closed  the  door  and  said  : 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  Remember, 
I  have  but  a  very  short  time  to  spend  with 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  45 

you.  If  I  were  to  treat  you  as  you  deserve, 
I  would  kick  you  into  the  street." 

"I  did  not  come  to  quarrel,  Colonel 
Brown,"  I  replied,  thinking  that  gentler 
methods  might  be  of  more  avail.  He  as 
sumed  a  look  of  irritating  surprise,  and 
said: 

"Ah,  then,  your  nature  must  have  under 
gone  a  great  change.  That's  right,  sit 
down." 

"If  you  will  cease  your  useless  banter," 
said  I,  "perhaps  I  can  state  the  object  of 
my  visit." 

I  then  told  him  of  Cartwright's  disclo 
sure.  He  exhibited  no  surprise,  but 
listened,  I  thought,  with  gloating  satisfac 
tion.  "Now,  Colonel  Brown,"  I  said,  in 
conclusion  of  my  recital,  "as  you  have 
done  me  a  great  wrong,  and  as  a  human 
being  you  are  doubtless  willing  to  make 
some  reparation,  please  give  me  Mrs. 


46  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

Green's  address.  I  would  do  as  much  for 
you,"  I  pleaded. 

The  wretch  laughed.  "Why,  you  must 
be  crazy,"  said  he.  "I  was  kind  enough 
not  to  have  you  arrested  and  imprisoned 
upon  conviction  of  assault  with  intent  to 
kill;  now  you  come  around  and  make 
foolish  requests  of  me.  I  am  almost  sorry 
that  I  am  out  of  the  newspaper  business. 
I  would  like  to  have  you  written  up  in 
good  shape.  You  would  make  an  excel 
lent  subject.  Writing  a  book,  too,  I  un 
derstand.  Why,  my  dear  combative  sir, 
that  alone  is  offense  enough  to  give  you 
odious  notoriety." 

"Colonel  Brown,  I  must  beg  you  not  to 
taunt  me." 

"Oh,  no;  that  is  unnecessary.  Let  me 
state,  as  a  matter  of  useful  information, 
that,  if  you  attempt  any  of  your  hot-headed 
violence  here,  you  shall  be  roughly  handled. 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  47 

That  man  whom  you  passed  in  the  hall — 
and  who  is  now  just  outside  the  door — 
was  once  a  sort  of  prize-fighter;  but  don't 
be  frightened.  He  is  very  gentle." 

I  sat  for  a  time,  studying  Brown's  face. 

"How  can  such  a  man  occupy  a  promi 
nent  position?"  I  mused.  "Why  is  it 
that  the  public  can  not  see  his  meanness?" 

"So  you  refuse  to  give  me  Mrs.  Green's 
address  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  will  assist  you.  Why  not 
put  an  advertisement  in  one  of  the  news 
papers?  Let  me  see,"  he  added,  with  an 
air  of  pretended  meditation,  "  I  think  I 
heard  some  one  tell  her  that  you  would 
advertise  for  her.  Yes,  as  nearly  as  I 
remember,  the  some  one  made  this  re 
mark  :  i Barker  says  that  whenever  he 
wants  to  see  you,  he  can  have  an  adver 
tisement  inserted  in  a  newspaper,  and  that 
you  will  immediately  answer  it'  Yes, 


48  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

that's  the  remark  the  some  one  made, 
adding,  however,  that  you  had  made  some 
sort  of  a  bet  with  regard  to  it.  She  be 
came  very  indignant,  it  seemed  to  me." 

"You  are  a  scoundrel !"  I  exclaimed. 

The  door  creaked,  and,  looking  around, 
I  saw  the  servant's  nose  and  one  of  his 
eyes. 

"Shut  the  door,  Jerry, "said  Brown.  Then, 
turning  to  me,  he  added :  "Mrs.  Green  is 
a  charming  woman,  sir.  There  is  a  soft 
ness  about  her  eyes  that  quite  charms 
one.  She  used  to  be  a  friend  of  yours,  I 
believe  ?" 

''You  are  a  villain !"  I  shouted. 

"Yes — er — shut  the  door,  Jerry — some 
one  told  me  that  she  and  you  were  once 
on  very  good  terms.  You  ought  to  know 
her  now,  sir.  She  is  lively  without  being 
gay,  and  audacious  without  being  imperti 
nent — just  the  kind  of  woman  we  all  like 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  49 

to  see ;  a  woman  that  can  make  the  fire 
light  at  evening  glow  with  increased 
brightness.  I  wish  you  were  not  so  busy 
with  your  literary  duties.  I  should  like 
to  see  you  renew  that  old  friendship,  which 
must  have  been  so  charming  among  the 
rocks  and  ferns  of  a  country  watering- 
place." 

Brown  was  leaning  against  the  mantel 
piece.  I  arose  and  stood  confronting  him. 
Had  I  been  surrounded  by  a  dozen  armed 
men,I  could  not  have  keptmy  hands  off  him. 
I  seized  him  by  the  throat.  In  an  instant 
Jerry's  arms  were  about  me;  in  an  instant 
— well,  I  know  not  exactly  what  followed, 
but  I  do  know  that  some  time  afterward  I 
found  myself  on  the  sidewalk,  trying  to  get 
up.  The  street  was  a  very  quiet  one,  and, 
fortunately,  no  one  saw  me.  I  hardly  know 
how  I  reached  my  room,  but  I  remember 
that  some  one  helped  me  up  the  stairs. 


50  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Several  weeks  elapsed  before  I  was  able 
to  leave  my  bed.  I  sent  for  Cartwright, 
but  word  was  brought  back  that  he  had 
gone  out  of  town.  One  evening,  just  as 
I  had  dressed  myself  and  sat  down  to  muse 
over  my  perplexities,  some  one  knocked 
at  the  door,  and,  before  I  could  say, "Come 
in,"  Cartwright  entered  the  room. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Cartwright;  sit 
down." 

"Yes;  I  suppose  you  are  glad  to  see  me; 
for,  you  know,  a  man  is  always  glad  to  see 
some  one  from  whom  he  can  derive  in- 
formation  concerning  the  future  prosperity 
of  his  heart's  affairs.  I  heard  that  you 
were  bruised  by  a  fall,"  he  added  as  he  sat 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  51 

down,  "but  I  did  not  think  it  was  so 
serious.  How  did  you  fall  ?" 

I  related  my  experience  with  Brown 
and  the  pugilistic  Jerry. 

"Why,  you  ought  to  have  had  better 
sense  than  to  have  grabbed  him  in  his  own 
house." 

"What  was  I  to  do?" 

"Why,  laugh  it  off  with  him." 

"Laugh  the  devil  off!"  I  exclaimed. 

"There  you  go.  Confound  it,  Barker, 
you  are  the  most  hot-headed  man  I  ever 
saw.  Let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice. 
Go  out  into  the  country  somewhere  and 
hold  your  head  under  a  spout  spring. 
Now  don't  get  excited.  You  can  never 
deal  with  Brown  unless  you  keep  cool.  Say, 
haven't  you  forgotten  that  woman  yet?" 

"Forget  her!"  I  contemptuously  ex 
claimed.  "How  could  a  human  being 
forget  her  ?" 


52  MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

"All  foolishness.  You  should  not  have 
allowed  her  to  tie  the  string  of  affection 
around  your  finger.  Then  you  could  have 
forgotten  her." 

"Cartwright,  you  are  speaking  too  light 
ly  of  a  matter  that  is  of  vital  concern  to 


me." 


"Yes;  and  it  will  be  still  more  vital  if 
you  keep  on  worrying  with  it.  Let  me 
tell  you :  The  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is 
to  fill  yourself  up  with  beer  and  go  to 
sleep.  By  the  way,  what  do  you  want 
with  me?" 

"I  have  an  earnest  request  to  make  of 
you.  I  want  you  to  find  Mrs.  Green  and 
tell  her  all  you  know  about  Brown's 
scheme  to  marry  her." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  in  the 
affair." 

"Cartwright,  I  hope  that  you  are  not 
afraid—" 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  53 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  broke  in,  "all 
humorists  are  more  or  less  afraid.  The 
humorist,  seeing  the  ridiculousness  of  get 
ting  into  trouble,  tries  to  avoid  it.  You 
serious  writers  are  the  men  who  get  into 
trouble.  Suppose  Brown  should  catch 
me  interfering  with  his  affairs.  Don't  you 
know  that  he  would  very  adroitly  have  me 
knocked  heels  over  head.  I  hope  you 
did  not  tell  him  that  I  told  you  any 
thing." 

"I  told  him  every  thing." 

"The  devil,  you  say !" 

Cartwright  arose,  and,  giving  me  a  look 
which  I  hope  never  to  see  again  in  the 
eyes  of  any  human  being,  said  :  "I  wish 
that  you  hadn't  done  that.  I  thought 
that  you  would  surely  shield  me." 

"I  was  compelled  to  tell  him." 

"No,  you  were  not." 

"You  didn't  tell  it  as  a  secret." 


54  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"No;  but  I  thought  that  you  surely  had 
sense  enough  to  regard  it  as  a  secret. 
He  may  work  around  and  have  me  dis 
charged." 

"Cartwright,  I  don't  understand  you. 
Regardless  of  consequences,  I  think  that 
between  men  there  should  be  some  little 
honor,  but  it  seems  that  you  know  noth 
ing  but  policy.  I  have  one  more  favor  to 
ask :  Write  the  confession  you  made  to 
me  so  that  I  may,  if  such  an  opportunity 
should  ever  occur,  give  it  to  Mrs.  Green." 

"Barker,  that  is  asking  rather  too  much. 
There  should,  regardless  of  consequences, 
you  know,  be  some  honor  between  men. 
You  broke  a  promise,  remember,  and  tore 
my  coat.  Now,  I  want  to  show  you  that 
there  is  some  little  resentment  about  me.  I 
shall  write  no  confession  for  you,  and,  more 
than  that,  I  must  request  you  not  to  use 
my  name.  You  made  me  angry  when  I 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  55 

was  up  here  the  last  time,  and  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  I  don't  purpose  to  be 
a  rag  baby  in  your  hands.  1  must  i?.ow 
bid  you  'good  evening.' ' 

I  called  to  him  as  he  turned  toward  the 
door,  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  me. 


j6  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER  VIL 

One  night,  shortly  after  my  recovery,  I 
was  strolling  along  the  street,  when  I  heard 
a  voice  that  thrilled  me.  Looking  up,  I 
saw  Mrs.  Green  and  Colonel  Brown  walk 
ing  in  front  of  me.  My  first  thought  was 
to  speak  to  her,  to  tell  her  how  shamefully 
I  had  been  treated  and  how  she  had  been 
deceived;  but,  for  once,  my  judgment  came 
to  my  assistance.  I  would  not  create  a 
scene  in  the  street.  I  would  follow  her 
and  find  out  her  place  of  residence. 

"So  you  much  prefer  a  quiet  life?"  said 
Brown. 

"Yes.  I  no  longer  have  a  taste  for 
society/' 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  57 

"Your  means  are  ample,  and  I  can  not 
$ee  why  you  do  not  care  more  for  enjoy 
ment  ?" 

"Oh,  I  enjoy  myself  well  enough." 

"I  sometimes  fancy  that  you  are  griev 
ing  over  that  fellow  Barker." 

"I  grieve  not  for  a  broken  trifle,"  she 
rejoined,  and  then,  after  a  few  moments, 
she  said : 

"I  would  like  to  meet  his  wife." 

"You  would  not  care  to  meet  her  but 
once." 

"Why?" 

"He  does  not  treat  her  very  kindly." 

"You  surprise  me!" 

"Truth  is  often  surprising.  Sometimes 
he  denies  that  she  is  his  wife,  and  swears 
that  he  never  saw  her  before.  The  truth 
is,  he  married  her  for  her  money,  and  now 
that  he  has  run  through  with  it,  he  treats 
her  shamefully.  Shall  we  turn  back  T* 


58  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

I  stepped  into  an  alley.  They  passed 
and  again  I  followed  them.  Once  Brown 
looked  back,  and  I  saw  that  he  recognized 
me.  A  few  moments  later  he  hastened 
Mrs.  Green  into  a  carriage.  There  was 
no  other  conveyance  in  sight,  and  I  ran  at 
the  top  of  my  speed  but  lost  sight  of  the 
carriage;  but  I  hurried  on  in  the  direction 
it  had  taken.  About  ten  minutes  later  I 
saw  a  carriage  approaching.  I  hailed  the 
driver : 

"Did  you  not  take  a  lady  and  gentle 
man  >home  just  now?" 

"Yes." 

4 'Give  me  the  number  of  the  house, 
please." 

He  did  so,  and  drove  rapidly.  I 
found  the  place,  a  stately,  but  modest 
house.  I  rang  the  door-bell.  A  servant 
girl  answered  the  summons. 

"Does  Mrs.  Green  live  here?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  59 

"Yes,  sir." 

"I  would  like  to  see  her." 

"Your  name,  please." 

"I  am  her  brother,  and  want  to  surprise 
her." 

The  lie  was  successful.  The  girl  directed 
me  to  the  drawing-room.  I  entered.  Mrs. 
Green  was  sitting  alone.  When  she  saw 
me  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and  threw  up 
her  hands,  but  she  uttered  no  outcry.  For 
several  moments  we  stood  looking  at  each 
other. 

"Mrs.  Green—" 

"Who  are  you,  sir?" 

"Oh,  you  know  who  I  am.  You  have 
been  imposed  upon  by  a  wretch  named 
Brown." 

"Sir!  Mr.  Brown  is  a  friend  of  mine. 
He  will  be  here  in  a  moment  or  two,  and 
then,  I  daresay,  you  will  think  well  before 
repeating  your  assertion." 


60  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Mrs.  Green,  please  listen  to  me.  I 
can  prove  that  you  have  been  deceived. 
I  can  satisfy  you  that  Brown  is  a  shame 
less  wretch.  I  can  prove — " 

"By  whom  can  you  prove  all  this?"  said 
Colonel  Brown,  stepping  into  the  room 
through  the  door  which  I  had  entered. 

"By  Cartwright,  if  he  is  not  afraid  to 
tell  the  truth,"  I  replied. 

"I  am  willing  to  send  for  Mr.  Cart- 
wright,"  said  Brown. 

"Oh,  no!"  Mrs.  Green  interposed,  "do 
not  send  for  him,  for,  as  this  is  not  a  court, 
witnesses  are  not  needed." 

"It  is  evidently  not  a  court  of  justice, 
madam,"  I  remarked. 

Her  beautiful  face  flushed,  and  even  in 
my  state  of  perplexity  I  could  not  help  but 
gaze  in  admiration  upon  her. 

"Mr.  Barker,"  she  said,  "I  can  not  fathom 
your  intentions.  If  you  have  come  to 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  6l 

renew  our  friendship,  why  did  you  come 
in  a  manner  so  violent?" 

"He  probably  thinks  he  has  done  you 
a  wrong  in  some  way,  and  has,  doubtless, 
come  to  plead  for  pardon,"  suggested 
Brown,  with  an  air  of  cool  villainy.  I 
turned  upon  him,  and  he  gave  me  one  of 
his  malicious  grins.  "A  man  who  is  used 
to  the  society  of  ladies,"  he  continued,  "in 
fact,  a  married  man,  should  better  under 
stand  how  to  approach — " 

"I  am  not  a  married  man,"  I  exclaimed. 
"Mrs.  Green,  please  listen  to  me.  The 
man  Cartwright,  of  whom  I  spoke,  con 
fessed  to  me  that  he  had  borne  an  unwill 
ing  part  in  a  scheme  which  this  man, 
Brown,  has  worked  with  such  success." 
Then,  in  a  graphic  way,  I  related  Cart- 
wright's  confession.  Mrs.  Green  was 
much  affected,  and  more  than  once  she 
turned  toward  me  with  looks  of  ten- 


62  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

derness.     When  I  had  concluded,  Brown 
said: 

"Now,  please  listen  to  me.  This  man 
Barker  is  attempting  to  deceive  you.  I 
understand  he  is  trying  to  get  a  divorce 
from  his  wife — " 

"I  have  no  wife,  you  villain!"  I  thun 
dered. 

"Haven't  you?    Well,  we'll  see." 
Then    he    stepped   to  the    door,    and 
said : 

"Mrs,  Barker,  piease  step  this  way." 
A  tall,  dark-haired  woman  entered: 
"You  shall  not  evade  me,"  she  said,  ap 
proaching    me.      "You    have   mistreated 
me,  but  I  will  follow  you  to  the  end  of 
the  earth.     Oh,  remember  our  marriage 
vow!" 

"I  don't  know  you!"  I  exclaimed. 
She  attempted  to  throw  her  arms  around 
me.     I  shoved  her  back,  and,  looking  to- 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  63 

ward  the  door,  I  saw  that  Mrs.  Annie 
Green,  with  her  hands  over  her  face,  was 
standing  in  the  hall. 


64.  MRS,    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

Brown  stood  surveying  me,  with  an  air 
of  contemptuous  triumph.  The  woman 
whom  he  had  introduced  as  my  wife 
turned  to  the  scoundrel,  and  said: 

"I  told  you  that  he  would  spurn  me;  I 
knew  that  he  would.  Sometimes  James 
i-s  all  affection,  then  again — oh,  I  can  not 
bear  to  think  of  his  treatment  of  me.  I 
really  believe  he  is  losing  his  mind.  1 
must  leave  this  house  at  once.  I  must  go 
to  my  desolate  home  and  hide  my  humilia 
tion." 

I  became  strangely  calm  for  a  man  of 
my  impetuous  nature.  When  the  woman 
had  passed  out,  I  stepped  into  the  hall 
and  addressed  Mrs.  Green,  who,  having 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  65 

recovered  from  the  shock  occasioned  by 
the  appearance  of  the  strange  visitor,  stood 
coldly  surveying  the  scene.  "Mrs.  Green," 
said  I,  "please  listen  to  me.  I  scarcely 
know  what  to  say,  but — " 

"I  should  think,  sir,  that  the  less  you 
say,  the  better." 

"Don't  reproach  me  unjustly." 

Brown  laughed.  "Colonel  Brown,  I 
will  address  you  presently,"  said  I;  then, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Green,  I  added:  "Madam, 
I  acknowledge  that  appearances  are 
against  me.  I  have  been  caught  in  a  trap 
which  only  a  master  of  villainy's  art  could 
have  devised  I  pledge  you  my  word  and 
honor  as  a  gentleman  that  I  never  saw 
that  woman  before." 

"As  a  gentleman!"  Brown  repeated, 
with  a  derisive  snicker. 

"She  was  hired,"  I  continued,  paying 
no  attention  to  Brown,  "by  a  wolf,  and 


66  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

having  played  her  part  on  the  stage,  she 
has  gone,  doubtless,  to  appear  as  another 
character." 

"Why  do  you  persist  in  pleading  to  me 
Mr.  Barker.  I  assure  you  I  am  not  so 
deeply  concerned  in  the  matter.  If  the 
woman  is  your  wife — why,  I  suppose  you 
had  a  perfect  right  to  marry  her.  I  am 
sure  you  were  under  no  obligations  to 


me." 


"Don't  cut  me  with  indifference.  As  a 
friend,  if  as  nothing  closer,  you  should  be 
willing  to  assist  me  in  clearing  up — " 

"I  am  willing  to  assist  you.  What  do 
you  suggest  ?" 

"That  Cartwright  may  be  sent  for.  I 
am  sure  that  his  testimony  will  satisfy 
you." 

"Yes,"  said  Brown,  "let  us  send  for 
Cartwright.  Send  your  carriage  for  him, 
Mrs.  Green." 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  6j 

"Let  me  go  for  him?"  I  asked 

"Certainly,"  Mrs.  Green  replied 

"That  is  unnecessary,"  Brown  inter 
posed.  "A  servant  can  bring  him  just  as 
well,  and,  in  the  meantime  we  can  have 
the  pleasure  of  your  company." 

"I  will  go"  I  insisted. 

"I  see  no  objection,"  replied  Mrs. 
Green. 

A  few  minutes  later,  I  was  seated  in  a 
carriage.  I  had  told  the  driver  to  make 
the  best  possible  time,  for  I  was  afraid 
that  Brown  would  communicate  with  Cart- 
wright.  When  I  left  the  house,  Brown 
was  exceedingly  nervous,  and  I  could  not 
help  but  feel  that  the  hour  of  my  vindica 
tion  was  at  hand. 

I  found  Cartwright  sitting  in  his  room. 
I  was  so  eager  that  I  could  scarcely 
explain  my  object  in  making  such  an 
abrupt  call 


68  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Cartwright,"  said  I,  "come  with  me.  I 
have  a  carriage  at  the  door.  For  God's 
sake,  don't  hesitate.  I  can  explain  as  we 
ride." 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  replied,  "sit  down 
and  wait  until  I  finish  this  article.  I've 
got  a  first-rate  plot  for  a  humorous  thing 
and  I  don't  want  to  lose  it.  By  the  way, 
did  you  read  my — " 

"Humorous  thunder,  Cartwright!  This 
is  no  time  for  drollery." 

"Not  for  you,  perhaps,  but  it  is  for 
me.  You  see  I  make  my  living  by  non 


sense." 


"But  can't  you  be  sensible  just  one 
time?" 

"For  one  time  only?  No,  I  am  afraid 
not.  You  see  I  might  get  a  taste  of  it 
and  like  it  so  well  that  my  profession 
would  become  endangered.  Look  here, 
you  seem  to  have  forgotten  that  I  am  a 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  69 

man  of  resentment.     Didn't  come  around 
to  wrestle  with  my  wardrobe,  did  you?" 

"Cartwright,  I  will  pay  you  any  price 
for  a  few  moments  of  reason.     Listen  to 


me." 


I  related  the  experience  through  which 
I  had  passed.  He  listened  attentively 
and  when  I  had  concluded,  he  said: 

"So  he  rushed  in  a  witness,  eh?  Oh, 
he's  a  captain.  Now,  what  do  you 
propose?" 

"I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  Mrs. 
Green's  house,  and  tell  what  you  know." 

"Is  Brown  still  there?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

"Barker,  the  situation  is  a  little  too 
ticklish  to  suit  me0" 

"I  swear  that  you  shall  lose  nothing. 
Make  the  confession  and  I  vow  not  only 
to  shield  you  from  financial,  but  from 
physical  injury." 


70  MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

"He  might  have  me  discharged.  That 
would  settle  me,  for  when  a  humorist 
changes  from  one  paper  to  another,  unless 
the  step  is  one  considerably  higher,  people 
say  that  he  is  worn  out,  and  when  people 
begin  to  make  such  assertions  he'd  just 
as  well  be  worn  out." 

"Your  argument  is  not  based  on  rea 
son,"  I  rejoined,  "but  if  he  should  have 
you  discharged,  I'll  see  that  you  profit  by 
it.  We  can  go  in  together  and  write  books. " 

"That  would  be  a  good  idea.  You  see 
I  could  scatter  the  grins  and  you  could 
shed  the  gloom.  Are  you  in  earnest?" 

"I  swear  that  I  am." 

"Won't  break  it  as  you  did  that  other 
promise?" 

"No,  confound  it,  I  swear  that  I  won't." 

"How  much  is  your  income?" 

"Not  very  much  of  late,  for  I  have 
neglected  my  work." 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  ^l 

"When  you  are  at  yourself  it  amounts 
to  something,  doesn't  it?" 

"Yes,  and  if  we  were  together,  we 
might  make  something  of  a  hit  in  the 
comedy  line.  I  already  have  an  order  for 
a  play." 

"Let  me  see  it." 

"I  haven't  it  with  me.  Confound  it, 
can't  you  believe  what  a  man  says?" 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  a  fact." 

He  arose,  stretched  himself,  walked 
about  the  room,  sat  down  lazily,  and 
said: 

"Well,  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any 
need  to  be  in  a  hurry  about  it,  is  there?" 

"Of  course,  there  is.  I  want  you  to 
come  with  me  now.  The  carriage  is 
waiting." 

"I  ought  to  get  myself  up  in  a  little 
better  shape  than  this." 

"No,  you  are  all  right1* 


J2  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"You  say  Brown's  there?" 
4<I  suppose  so.  I  left  him  there." 
"Don't  think,  then,  that  he's  gone? 
There  you  go.  I  never  saw  such  a  man. 
As  soon  as  I  begin  to  reason,  you  fly  off 
the  handle.  Let  me  tell  you:  Nobody 
hates  Brown  more  than  I  do,  and  I  only 
need  a  little  backing  to  stand  up  to  him. 
The  backing  I  want  is  to  see  my  financial 
way  clear,  and  if  you  are  in  earnest  about 
taking  me  in  with  you,  I'll  make  the 
confession." 

I  grasped  Cartwright's  hand,  and  swore 
by  all  things  holy  that  I  was  sincere. 

"Look  out,  don't  jerk  me  around. 
Remember,  you  tore  my  coat  once.  Never 
tear  a  man's  coat,  for  it  embarrasses  him 
and  renders  him  unfit  to  appear  in  polite 
society." 

"Come  on,  Cartwright.  Let  us  not  lose 
a  moment's  time." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  7J 

We  found  Mrs.  Green  and  Mr.  Brown 
sitting  in  the  drawing-room.  Brown 
seemed  surprised  at  seeing  Cartwright, 
evidently  believing  that  he  had  not  the 
courage  to  come. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Green,"  said  I,  "we  shall 
soon  see  who  is  false.  Mr.  Cartwright, 
please  relate  what  occurred  incident  to 
Mrs.  Green's  visit  to  Mr.  Brown's  office, 
the  time  she  left  a  note  for  me — " 

"And  which  I  promptly  delivered," 
Brown  broke  in,  turning  to  Cartwright 
with  a  smile  that  I  should  have  liked  to 
strike  with  my  fist.  "Yes,"  he  continued, 
"tell  the  lady  how  Mr.  Barker  read  the 
letter,  and  tore  it  into  fragments." 

" Never  mind,  Colonel  Brown,"  said  I, 
"let  us  hear  Mr.  Cartwright's  statement." 

Why  didn't  Cartwright  speak?  He 
sat,  gazing  at  the  floor. 

"I  would  really  like  to  hear  your  state- 


74  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

ment,  Mr.  Cartwright,"  Mrs.  Green  said. 
Her  face  was  deathly  pale,  and  her  man 
ner  was  nervous  and  excited. 

"I  was  in  the  office  at  the  time  of  Mrs. 
Green's  visit,"  Cartwright  began,  speaking 
to  no  one  particularly,  but  continuing  to 
gaze  at  the  floor,  "and  I  remember  that 
she — she  spoke  of  Mr.  Barker.  She — if 
I  remember  correctly — wrote  a  note,  and 
— and — asked  Colonel  Brown  to  deliver 
it  to  Mr.  Barker." 

"Which  I  did,"  said  Brown. 

"Wrote  a  note,"  Cartwright  continued, 
"and  asked  Colonel  Brown  to  deliver  it. 
Mr.  Barker — Barker  was  out,  and  when 
he  came  in — " 

Brown  cleared  his  throat. 

"When  he  came  in,  Colonel  Brown— 
gave  him  the  note — " 

"Cartwright!"  I  exclaimed,  springing  to 
my  feet,  'you  know  that  you  are  a  liar." 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  75 

Cartwright  did  not  lift  his  head.  Reel 
ing  like  a  drunken  man,  I  passed  out  of 
the  house.  Everything  swam  before  me. 
How  I  reached  home  I  know  not,  but  I 
know  that  late  at  night  I  awoke  with  a 
burning  fever.  I  don't  know  how  the 
days  passed,  but  occasionally  I  seemed  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  someone  passing  me. 
When  I  regained  consciousness,  I  found 
myself  in  a  hospital.  My  recovery  was 
slow.  The  attending  physician  one  day 
told  me  that  I  had  narrowly  escaped 
insanity.  "You  are  the  victim  of  some 
great  trouble,"  said  he,  "for,  in  delirium, 
you  muttered  and  swore;  called  someone 
a  liar  and  upbraided  an  acquaintance 
because  he  had  not  the  moral  strength  to 
tell  the  truth.  You  must,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  dismiss  such  thoughts,  for  if  a 
relapse  should  take  place,  you  would  be 
in  danger  of  losing  your  mind." 


76  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"I  can  not  help  but  think  of  my 
wrongs,"  I  feebly  replied. 

"Yes,  you  can.  Disease  and  trouble, 
to  a  great  extent,  can  be  thrown  off. 
Faith  makes  a  man  religious;  will  makes 
him  strong.  Whenever  troublesome 
thoughts  occur  to  you,  turn  from  them  as 
you  would  turn  from  a  vile  stench." 

"You  have  been  reading  Macaulay," 
I  replied. 

"How  do  you  know?"  he  asked,  with  a 
smile. 

"Well,  you  have  his  sly  repetition,  his 
peculiar  clearness  of  manner." 

"I  am  a  student  of  Macaulay,"  he 
replied.  "I  am  glad  that  you  noticed  it, 
for  it  is  an  excellent  sign." 

"What  is  your  name?"  I  asked. 

"Hill,"  he  replied. 

"You  haven't  been  a  physician  very 
long?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  JJ 

"No,  for,  as  you  see,  I  am  a  young  man 
— that  is,  you  may  not  see  it,  but  I  am. 
I  am  a  very  hard  student.  There  now, 
don't  say  anything  more;  you  have  talked 
enough." 

"No,  I  don't  think  it  will  hurt  me.  I 
have  been  so  long  in  darkness  that  I 
enjoy  the  light.  Do  you  make  enough 
money  in  your  practice  to  keep  you  in 
good  style?" 

He  laughingly  replied:  "I  really  make 
no  money.  All  the  money  I  have  ever 
secured  has  been  spent  in  investigation. 
I  spent  about  $10,000  last  year  in  this 
way." 

"Your  parents  must  be  wealthy." 

"My  parents  are  dead.  My  sister 
furnishes  me  with  the  money.  She  is 
wealthy,  and  would  give  me  more,  but  I 
am  ashamed  to  accept  it." 

"What  is  her  name?" 


78  MRS.    ANNIB  GREEN. 

"Mrs.  Annie  Green.  Her  husband  is 
dead,  and — there,  I  said  you  were  talking 
too  much.  You  are  as  pale  as  a  ghost. 
Don't  try  to  get  up,  you — " 

This  was  all  I  heard.  Again  I  caught 
glimpses  of  persons  passing  me.  Weeks 
must  have  dragged  along.  When  I  again 
became  conscious,  I  was  so  weak  that  I 
could  scarcely  lift  my  head.  I  anxiously 
watched  for  Dr.  Hill.  One  of  the 
nurses  told  me  that  he  was  deeply  in 
terested  in  my  case.  The  next  time  he 
visited  me,  he  looked  at  me  closely,  and 
said: 

"You  must  not  talk,  remember.  Since 
I  mentioned  my  sister's  name,  you  have 
spoken  a  dozen  times  of  her.  What  is 
your  name?  Oh,  yes,  Barker,  the  writer. 
She  is  a  widow,  and  of  course  is  rather 
romantic.  When  I  see  her,  111  tell  her 
about  your  mutterings.  I  am  so  busy 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  79 

that  I  do  not  see  her  often.  There  now, 
don't  say  a  word." 

Someone  approached  and  handed  a 
telegraphic  dispatch  to  Dr.  Hill.  After 
hurriedly  reading  it,  he  said:  "I  must  go 
down  into  the  country,  to  be  gone,  I  don't 
know  how  long.  Be  quiet,  and  take  care 
of  yourself.  You'll  be  well,  I  suppose,  by 
the  time  I  return." 

The  days  seemed  to  exhaust  them 
selves,  so  laboriously  did  they  drag  along. 
I  sent  for  Cartwright,  but  he  paid  no 
attention  to  my  request.  At  last  I  was 
able  to  go  home.  During  my  trouble  I 
had  found  enough  time  to  work  on  my 
book.  I  had  completed  it  and  had  left  it 
on  my  desk,  but  when  I  returned,  I  could 
not  find  it.  I  was  soon  enlightened.  I 
saw  a  review  of  it  in  one  of  the  leading 
papers.  While  I  was  wandering  in  a 
state  of  perplexity,  Cartwright  called.  I 


8O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

was  too  weak,  or  I  would  have  thrown 
him  through  a  window. 

"Barker,"  said  he,  "I  thought  you 
were  going  to  die,  and  I  took  the 
liberty  of  having  your  book  brought 
out." 

"I  wish  you  would  take  the  liberty  of 
telling  the  truth." 

"My  dear  boy,  liberties  are  expensive. 
Now  don't  speak  of  that  affair  at  Mrs. 
Green's  house.  I  tried  my  best  to  do  the 
square  thing,  but  could  not.  That  fellow 
Brown's  got  me  in  a  way  you  know 
nothing  about." 

"Cartwright,  you  will  oblige  me  by 
quitting  this  room;  and,  permit  me  to  add, 
I  hope  you  will  never  darken  my  door 
again." 

"Now  look—" 

"Never  mind.  Explanations  are  out 
of  order.  Go!" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  8 1 

That  evening,  when  I  took  up  a  news 
paper,  I  read  the  following: 

"Colonel  Henry  Brown,  the  well-known  journal 
ist,  it  is  said  upon  good  authority,  is  soon  to  be 
united  in  marriage  to  Mrs.  Annie  Green,  a  beautiful 
and  wealthy  widow,  formerly  of  Chicago,  now  of 
this  city." 


82  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

I  threw  down  the  paper  and,  if  I  remem 
ber  correctly,  raved  like  a  wild  beast.  I 
cursed  myself,  and  I  cursed  Brown  and 
Cartwright.  Then  I  sat  down,  and,  as 
quietly  as  possible,  mused  over  the  dam 
nable  treachery  that  had  brought  about 
my  ruin.  What  could  I  do?  Nothing. 
Everything  had  been  tried ;  everything 
had  failed.  Oh,  how  I  did  want  to  shoot 
Brown.  How  I  did  long  to  take  a  shot 
gun,  loaded  with  scraps  of  iron,  and  shoot 
his  hellish  smile.  Cartwright !  What  an 
infamous,  cowardly  wretch!  A  man  who 
has  not  the  strength  to  tell  the  truth  ought 
to  be  branded.  "I  don't  know  what  to 
do,"  I  mused.  "They  have  made  out  a 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  83 

plausible  case  against  me,  and  I  am  left 
without  defense." 

I  could  not  remain  in  the  city.  I  hated 
fts  activity  and  the  glare  of  its  false  finery. 
My  book  was  a  success.  I  received  many 
complimentary  letters  from  eminent  writ 
ers.  The  reviewers  were  kind,  but  one 
writer  who  had  seen  me,  said,  in  print,  that 
I  was  a  victim  of  overwork,  and  that  if  I 
did  not  seek  immediate  rest  I  would  be 
come  insane.  Oh,  yes,  I  was  a  victim,  but 
not  a  victim  of  overwork. 

I  slipped  away  from  town,  intending 
never  to  return.  I  did  not  tell  a  single 
acquaintance  whither  I  was  going.  In 
fact,  I  did  not  know  myself,  but  a  week 
after  starting  I  was  not  surprised  to  find 
that  I  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  Blue 
Rock,  the  place  where  I  first  met  Mrs. 
Annie  Green.  The  hotel  was  no  longer 
kept  by  the  same  man.  It  was  now 


84  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

hardly  a  hotel,  but  was  more  of  a  farm 
house.  The  summer  houses  were  torn 
away,  and  the  park  was  turned  into  a 
pasture.  I  called  at  the  house  and  intro 
duced  myself  to  a  fat  man  whom  I  found 
on  the  porch. 

"My  name  is  Gladwell,"  he  said,  arising 
with  difficulty  and  extending  a  hand  almost 
as  large  as  a  small  ham.  "Set  down,  sir/' 

I  sat  down  and  made  an  effort  to  be 
cheerful. 

"You  are  not  running  a  hotel,  are  you, 
Mr.  Gladwell?" 

"No,  thank  God!" 

He  said  this  with  such  fervor  that  I 
looked  at  him  more  closely.  Under  his 
chin,  reaching  around  to  his  ear,  he  wore 
a  narrow  growth  of  beard.  His  fat  cheeks 
shook  when  he  cleared  his  throat. 

"No,  thank  God!"  he  repeated.  "I 
would  rather  starve  to  death  than  be 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  85 

annoyed  with  keepin'  a  hotel.  I  bought 
this  place,  itttendin'  to  keep  a  hotel,  but  I 
hadn't  been  runnin'  it  more  than  a  week 
till  a  slick  lookin'  feller  come  along  and 
beat  me  out  of  five  dollars  and  a  half. 
Done  it,  sir;  I  wish  I  may  never  stir  again 
if  he  didn't.  Then  I  says  to  my  wife, 
says  I,  'Louise,  that  settles  it.  We  won't 
keep  a  hotel  to  be  worried  and  cheated. 
We  are  too  old  to  be  worried  and  cheated 
this  way.  We'll  jest  live  here  an*  take  in 
all  the  money  we  can  without  makin'  hotel 
pretensions.*  That's  what  I  said  to  Louise, 
done  it,  sir;  wish  I  may  never  stir  again 
if  I  didn't.  You  say  your  name  is  Bar 
ker?" 

-Yes,  sir." 

"What's  your  bus'ness?  How  do  you 
make  your  livin?" 

"By  writing." 

"In  a  county  clerk's  office,  I  reckon?" 


86  MfcS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"No,  I  write  for  publication." 

"Well,  that's  a  slow  sort  of  trade,  ain't 
it?" 

"It  is  not  very  brisk." 

"I  guess  not.  Here  John,"  calling  a 
negro  boy,  "fetch  my  pipe.  Damn  you, 
fetch  it  this  minit,  or  I  wish  I  may  never 
stir  ag'in  if  I  don't  peel  you  like  a 
potato." 

The  boy  brought  the  pipe.  "What's 
your  business  out  in  this  section?"  he 
asked. 

"I  have  no  business  here,  that  is,  no 
special  business.  It  is  my  desire  to  rent 
a  house  in  some  quiet  place  and  live  with 
out  interruption." 

"I've  got  a  little  cabin  that  will  suit 
you;  wish  I  may  never  stir  ag'in  if  I 
haven't.  It  ain't  more  than  a  half-mile 
from  here,  and  you  can  take  your  meals 
at  my  house.  The  place  is  all  covered 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  87 

with  vines — well,  come  right  on  up  now 
and  see  it." 

I  readily  agreed.  He  talked  incessantly 
as  he  waddled  along.  We  were  not  long 
in  reaching  the  cabin.  I  was  struck  by 
its  beauty.  It  was  a  log-house,  very  old, 
but  well  preserved. 

"That  vine,"  said  Mr.  Gladwell,  point 
ing  to  a  fine  growth  of  ivy,  "was  planted  a 
long  time  ago  by  my  niece,  Annie  Hill. 
Her  name's  Green  now.  Well — what's 
the  matter?  Are  you  sick?" 

"No." 

"You  are  mighty  pale  for  a  well  man. 
Let's  go  in.  Now,"  he  added  when  we 
had  entered  the  cabin,  "this  is  the  very 
place  for  you.  If  you  prove  to  be  a 
pretty  good  sort  of  a  fellow,  I  won't 
charge  you  any  rent.  I'll  have  a  carpet 
put  down  and  have  everything  brushed 
up.  What  do  you  say?" 


88  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"I  want  the  house,  and  I  am  willing  to 
pay  any  reasonable  amount  of  rent." 

"We  won't  haggle  about  that.  Well, 
I  guess  we'd  better  go  to  dinner.  I 
always  have  to  be  on  time.  Louise  cuts 
up  some  tall  shines  if  I  don't" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  89 


CHAPTER   X. 

I  was  charmingly  situated,  and  had 
there  not  been  so  dead  a  weight  on  my 
heart,  I  could  have  sat  down  in  perfect 
contentment.  I  could  stand  in  my  door, 
when  the  autumn  sun  was  low,  and  go 
from  rapture  into  forgetfulness  over  the 
magnificent  view.  The  hills  were  glorious 
with  a  soft  glow  when  the  brightly-colored 
leaves  caught  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

I  found  the  Gladwells  to  be  an  excellent 
old  couple.  Mrs.  Gladwell  would  often 
scold,  or  pretend  to  scold  her  husband, 
but  at  evening,  when  her  work  was  done, 
I  noticed  that  she  sat  on  the  old  man's 
knee — a  soft  seat,  surely — and  made  love 
to  him  as  he  smoked  his  clay  pipe. 


gO  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

One  day  Mrs.  Gladwell — a  bright- 
eyed  little  woman  she  was,  too — said  to 
me: 

4<I  wish  you  would  do  me  a  favor." 

"I  will  gladly  do  so,"  I  replied. 

"I  want  you  to  write  me  a  piece  of 
poetry  about  Dan,"  meaning  her  husband. 
"I  want  you  to  make  it  read  like  I  was 
talkin'  to  him,  an'  I  want  to  have  it  printed 
on  a  card." 

"All  right ;  I  will  write  it  and  have  it 
printed" 

I  did  so.  When  I  gave  her  the  card, 
she  read  the  lines  over  and  over  again 
before  she  said  anything.  Then,  while 
her  countenance  shone  with  that  charm 
which  seems  to  delight  in  spreading  itself 
on  an  old  face,  she  said: 

"Oh,  I  am  a  thousand  times  obliged  to 
you.  These  words  are  so  beautiful  that 
they'll  please  Dan  mighty  nigh  to  death. 


MR&   ANNIB  GREBN.  9! 

I  wish  I  had  something  to  give  you.    Wait 


a  minute." 


She  opened  a  drawer  and  took  out  a  small 
daguerreotype,  handed  it  to  me,  and  said  : 

"Here  is  a  picture  of  my  niece,  Annie 
Hill,  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  She  is  a 
grown  woman  now,  and  has  been  married. 
I  wish  you  could  see  her.  The  picture 
can't  interest  you  very  much,  I  guess,  but 
I  give  it  to  you  because  I  think  so  much 
of  it.  Yes,  you  must  take  it." 

I  took  the  picture  and  hastened  to  my 
cabin.  I  sat  down  and  opened  the  case. 
I  should  have  known  those  eyes.  I  looked 
long  and  meditatively,  and,  with  a  sigh, 
put  the  picture  aside. 

"I  will  write  to  Mrs.  Green,"  I  said. 
"I  will  tell  her  how  I  love  her;  how  I 
have  been  victimized.  I  will  tell  her  that 
I  have  her  picture." 

I  turned  to  my  writing  desk.     *'  What 


92  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

is  the  use?"  I  thought,  throwing  down 
my  pen.  "She  would  throw  the  letter 
aside.  She  would  write  to  her  uncle  and 
tell  him  to  drive  me  away.  Fate  is  against 
me.  I  must  make  the  best  of  it." 

My  musings  were  cut  short  by  the  en 
trance  of  old  man  Gladwell. 

"Barker,"  said  he,  "look  at  this.  Jest 
read  that." 

He  handed  me  the  card  I  had  given 
his  wife.  After  pretending  to  read  the 
lines,  I  said : 

"I  must  congratulate  you  on  such  a 
compliment." 

He  laughed  until  I  thought  that  his 
cheeks  were  in  danger  of  being  shaken 
off,  and  then  said: 

"It's  the  finest  thing  I  ever  read  in  my 
life.  I  always  did  know  that  Louise  was 
a  poet.  W'y,  if  she  was  to  write  this  way 
for  the  papers  she  would  make  a  fortune." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  93 


CHAPTER   XI. 

One  afternoon  while  I  was  sitting  in 
my  cabin,  with  Annie  Hill's  picture  lying 
before  me,  I  was  aroused  by  a  lusty 
"halloa."  I  turned  and  saw  Dr.  Hill  stand 
ing  in  the  door-way.  I  sprang  to  my 
feet  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  as  I  con 
tinued  to  shake  his  hand,  ''you  are  some 
what  stronger  than  you  were  when  we 
parted.  What  are  you  doing,"  he  asked, 
approaching  my  table.  "Ah !  here's  my 
sister  Annie's  picture.  Now,  Barker,  let 
us  sit  down  quietly.  I  want  to  tell  you 
something.  You  must  not  be  so  passion 
ate.  Now  look  at  you,  trembling  as 
though  some  man  were  pointing  a  pistol 


94  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

at  you.  Stop  it.  I  told  Annie  that  you 
called  her  name.  Then,  to  my  great  sur 
prise,  she  told  me  how  you  and  she  had 
met  each  other  out  here — told  me  every 
thing.  I  told  her  that  Brown  might  be  a 
rascal,  but  she  is  firmly  convinced  that  he 
is  not,  and  that  you  are  attempting  to 
deceive  her.  I  don't  know  you  very  well 
— now,  keep  quiet,  will  you?  If  you  don't, 
I'll  get  out  and  leave  the  neighborhood. 
She  told  me  how  your  wife  had  come.  Of 
course,  I  could  not  speak  authoritatively, 
not  knowing,  as  I  said,  but  little  about 
you,  yet  I  told  her  that  the  woman  might 
possibly  be  an  impostor,  hired  by  Brown, 
but  she  declared  that  the  woman  was  your 
wife.  Her  mind  is  made  up,  and,  when 
you  think  over  it,  you  can  not  very  well 
blame  her.  Look  here,"  he  added,  taking 
a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  handing  it  to 
me;  "while  you  are  reading  it,  and  after- 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  95 

ward,  for  that  matter,  I  want  you  to  be 
cool.  A  man  must  exercise  sense  occa 
sionally.  Passion  does  very  well  on  the 
stage,  but  in  real  life  it  is  ill-timed." 

I  unfolded  the  letter  and  read  as 
follows : 

MRS.  GREEN:  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  con* 
duct  of  a  few  days  ago,  when,  at  your  house,  I 
denied  my  wife.  The  truth  is,  I  have  for  years  been 
subject  to  fits  of  insanity.  Please  pardon  me,  and 
I  promise  never  to  trouble  you  again. 

J.  C.  BARKER, 

"I  did  not  write  this  infamous  thing!"  I 
exclaimed.  "It  is  a  close  imitation  of  my 
writing,  but  it  is  the  work  of  that  scoun 
drel,  Brown." 

"I  don't  doubt  that,"  said  the  doctor, 
"but  you  see,  Annie  has  no  proof  of  that 
fact.  Your  enemies  are  very  skillful." 

"But,  doctor,  is  it  possible  that  you  can 
stand  idly  by  and  see  your  sister  marry 
Brown?*' 


96  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"She  is  not  going  to  marry  him." 

"One  of  the  evening  papers  said  so.0 

"I  know  that.  It  made  Annie  very 
angry  when  she  read  it.  Brown  declared 
that  he  did  not  know  why  the  paragraph 
appeared." 

"He  is  a  liar,"  I  exclaimed. 

"There  you  go  again.  Look  here,  if 
you  don't  stop  your  fluttering  you'll  break 
a  blood  vessel,  and  then  you  can  not  live 
to  get  even  with  Brown." 

"Doctor,  if  you  were  in  my  place  what 
would  you  do?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"What  would  you  advise?" 

"Quietude." 

"Oh,  I  know  that.  I  mean,  what  course 
do  you  advise  me  to  take  to  prove  Brown's 
villainy?" 

"I  can't  advise  you,  Barker.  It  would 
be  quite  a  feather  in  our  family  cap  if 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  97 

Annie  were  to  catch  such  a  distinguished 
literary  man  as  you  have  become." 

"Don't  make  fun  of  me.  This  affair  is 
driving  me  insane,  and  it  is  not  a  matter 
of  jest." 

"Certainly  not,  but  you  must  not  let  it 
drive  you  insane.  That  is  the  way  I  talk 
to  Annie." 

"Does  she  often  speak  of  me?" 

"Yes.  She  loves  you.  There's  no 
mistake  about  that ;  but,  as  I  say, 
your  enemies  are  skillful.  Brown  doubt 
less  thinks  that  she  will  finally  marry 
him." 

"You  don't  think  so,  do  you?" 

"No,  but  I  can't  tell.  I  didn't  think  she 
was  going  to  marry  old  man  Green,  but- 
well,  I  must  not  talk  about  that." 

"Why  did  she  marry  him?"  I  could  not 
help  but  ask. 

"Never  mind  about  that  * 
7 


98  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN, 

"Doctor,  would  you  advise  me  to  return 
to  the  city?" 

"No,  stay  where  you  are.  Say,  do  you 
know  that  Brown  is  in  this  neighborhood?" 

"You  are  joking." 

"No,  I  am  not.  This  is  one  of  his  fa 
vorite  hunting  resorts,  you  know.  You 
may  meet  him." 

"It  won't  be  well  for  him  if  I  do." 

"I  should  think  not.  If  I  were  you,  I 
would — well,  I  don't  know  what  I  would 
do.  Let  us  change  the  subject.  I  left 
town,  you  know,  to  do  some  work  in  the 
country,  and  came  over  to  see  uncle  and 
aunt.  I  used  to  live  in  this  neighborhood 
when  I  was  a  boy.  Annie  and  I  used  to 
play  around  this  cabin.  An  old  negro 
lived  here  then.  Barker,  you  must  be 
more  cheerful  or  you  will  go  mad." 

"I  am  thinking  about  Brown." 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  99 

"Compel  him  to  acknowledge  that  he 
is  a  liar." 

"I  don't  think  you  can  do  that" 

"I  can  try." 

"If  you  meet  him  in  the  woods  he 
might  shoot  you." 

"Yes,  and  I  might  shoot  him." 

"That's  true.  You'd  better  keep  out  of 
his  way." 

"No,  I  will  never  turn  aside  to  avoid 
him." 

"But  you  will  not  hunt  him,  will  you?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  all  depends  upon 
the  humor  I  am  in  at  the  time." 

"I  don't  believe  you  would  mind  killing 
him." 

"He  ought  to  be  killed,"  I  replied. 

"Presumably,  but  you  certainly  can  not 
think  of  committing  murder.  Come,  let 
us  take  a  stroll." 

We  walked  out  under  the  magnificent 


IOO  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

trees.  From  afar  down  the  glen  came 
the  cry  of  the  watchful  hawk.  Quails 
whirred  overhead,  flying  from  one  field  to 
another.  The  air  bore  a  promise  of 
frost,  and  the  leaves,  beautiful  in  death, 
one  by  one,  fluttered  to  the  ground. 
The  weather  had  been  cool,  but  had  been 
followed  by  a  delightful  haziness,  a  balmy 
pause  in  the  season's  groping  toward 
winter. 

"The  very  air  is  full  of  sweet  memo 
ries,"  said  the  doctor.  "Come  this 
way." 

We  approached  a  tree.  The  doctor, 
pointing  to  a  fence  surrounding  a  grave, 
said : 

"Barker,  the  girl  I  would  have  married 
sleeps  here.  She  went  down  while  the 
leaves  were  falling.  We  were  to  be  mar 
ried  the  very  day  of  her  death.  I  have 
never  loved  anyone  else.  Some  day  I 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  IOI 

shall  lie  beside  her ;  God  knows  I  do  not 
care  how  soon.  It  was  under  this  tree  we 
made  our  vows  of  love.  When  she  was 
dying,  she  said  to  me:  'Robert,  I  want 
to  be  buried  under  our  tree.  I  want 
to  lie  there  alone  until  you  come.' 
She  knew  that  I  would  be  true  to  her 
memory.  Let  me  remain  here  alone, 
please.  I  will  meet  you  at  the  house  this 
evening." 

I  turned  away,  and,  after  going  a  short 
distance,  I  looked  back,  and  saw  him 
kneeling  beside  the  grave. 

The  doctor  left  us  the  next  morning. 
When  he  was  gone,  I  began  more  than 
ever  to  think  of  Brown.  In  my  troubled 
dreams,  I  could  see  his  damnable  smile. 
Great  God !  was  I  thinking  of  committing 
murder  !  Would  it  be  murder  to  kill  such 
a  brute?  Would  it  not  be  just  to  meet 
him  in  the  woods  and  compel  him  to  fight? 


1O2  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

Yes,  it  would  be  just.  The  more  I  thought 
of  it  the  more  firmly  I  became  convinced 
that  I  ought  to  shoot  him. 

One  morning,  after  a  feverish  night,  I 
borrowed  Gladwell's  gun,  and  set  out  in 
search  of  Brown.  I  thought  that  I  might 
find  him  in  the  fields  where  quail  wereplen< 
tiful.  He  had  called  at  Gladwell's  house 
the  day  before,  but  he  did  not  learn  that 
I  was  in  the  neighborhood,  neither  did  he 
know,  I  discovered,  that  Gladwell  was 
Mrs.  Green's  uncle.  The  feeling  that 
comes  over  a  man  when  he  starts  out  on 
such  a  mission,  can  not  be  described;  but 
he  surely  has  but  little  love  in  his  heart. 
Nature,  to  him,  no  longer  looks  beautiful. 
There  is  no  room  in  his  soul  for  that  sub 
lime  fullness  which  the  presence  of  God's 
glorious  work  should  inspire.  I  hurried 
onward.  I  heard  the  report  of  a  gun,  and 
a  bird  flew  past  me.  I  saw  someone 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  IO3 

climb  a  fence  and  stop  under  a  tree.  I 
knew  who  it  was.  I  knew  it  was  Brown. 
"  One  of  us  must  die,"  I  mused.  "I 
could  shoot  you  down  as  you  deserve  to 
be  shot,  but  I  will  give  you  a  chance." 


IO4  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER    XIL 

I  became  so  excited  in  my  wild  desire 
for  revenge  that  I  could  scarcely  walk. 
More  than  once  I  attempted  to  level  the 
gun  at  Brown,  but  each  time  the  weapon 
shook  and  swayed  like  a  dry  weed  held 
out  against  the  wind.  I  hastened  forward. 
Brown  was  standing  under  a  spreading 
tree,  near  a  fence.  I  heard  the  sounds  of 
laughter,  and  then  I  saw  that  he  was 
not  alone.  Five  or  six  men  were  seated 
under  the  tree.  I  could  see  that  they 
were  all  hunters.  Brown's  face  was  turned 
from  me  as  I  approached.  He  was  re 
lating  a  story. 

"Who  is  that?"  I  heard  one  of  the  men 
ask. 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  IO5 

Brown  looked  around  and  exclaimed : 
"Great  Lord  !  he  is  a  madman  !" 
Every  man  sprang  to  his  feet.     I  en 
deavored    to    pay   no    attention    to   the 
remark,  and  as  quietly  as  possible,  I  said : 
"Col.  Brown,  you  know  that  I  am  not  a 
madman,  but  that  I  have  suffered  enough 
at  your  instance  to  drive  anyone  mad.     I 
have  come,  sir,  to  make  a  demand  of  you. 
You  must  fight.     I  do  not  want  to  shoot 
you  down  without  giving  you  a  chance, 
but  I  will  force  you  to  defend  yourself." 

"Just  wait  a  minute,"  Brown  replied, 
without  the  least  exhibition  of  fear. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  continued,  "I  am  com 
pelled  to  make  a  rather  humiliating  con 
fession.  This  poor  fellow  is  my  brother 
Louis—" 

"It's  a  lie  !"  I  exclaimed. 
"Wait  until  I  make  my  statement  and 
then  you  can  make  yours.    Yes,  this  is  my 


IO6  MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

poor  brother  Louis.  His  mind  became  so 
much  affected  some  time  ago  that  we 
were  compelled  to  send  him  to  a  mad 
house.  He  escaped,  and  hoping  that  he 
was  dead,  we  told  our  friends  that  he  had 
died.  He  imagines  that  he  is  Barker, 
the  author,  and  fancies  that  I  have  done 
him  some  great  wrong.  He — " 

I  could  stand  no  more.  I  threw  up  the 
gun,  and  while  blindly  endeavoring  to 
shoot  the  scoundrel — who  kept  dodg 
ing  around  the  tree — I  was  seized  by 
two  of  the  men  and  thrown  upon  the 
ground. 

"Let  us  tie  him,"  said  Brown.  "Wilson, 
you've  got  a  small  rope  in  your  game-bag. 
Bring  it  here.  Ah,  that's  just  the  thing. 
Put  your  knee  on  his  breast,  Thompson. 
In  a  case  like  this,  the  exercise  of  strength, 
though  it  may  seem  like  violence,  is  ap 
ctual  kindness.  Oh,  Louis,  why  do  you 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  IOJ 

wish  to  kill  the  brother  who  has  always 
loved  you !" 

I  raved — I  could  do  nothing  else.  The 
men,  with  pity  in  their  eyes,  looked  upon 
me.  One  of  them  dipped  his  handker 
chief  into  a  little  stream  that  flowed  near 
us,  folded  it,  and  gently  placed  it  on  my 
brow. 

"Brown,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
him?"  asked  the  man  who  had  been 
addressed  as  Wilson. 

"I  hardly  know,"  Brown  replied,  with 
an  assumed  air  of  perplexity.  "I  hope 
that  you  gentlemen  will  never  mention 
this  affair.  It  is  deeply  humiliating  to 
me,  I  assure  you.  I  do  not  want  to  take 
him  back  to  the  mad-house  from  which  he 
escaped.  I  wish  I  could  find  some  private 
place  where  he  could  be  secured  without 
additional  humiliation.  Here  comes  that 
old  fellow  who  owns  the  hotel" 


IO8  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Come  here,  Mr.  Gladwell,"  I  cried. 

''What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  the 
old  man  asked  as  he  came  up  and  stood 
near  me.  I  tried  to  explain,  but  Brown 
glibly  told  his  story.  Great  God !  I  saw 
that  the  old  man  believed  him. 

"Well,  well,"  he  said,  sadly  shaking  his 
head,  "I  wish  I  may  never  stir  ag'in  if  I 
didn't  think  there  was  something  queer 
about  him.  I  asked  my  nephew,  the 
doctor,  about  him,  and  he  said  that  he 
wa'n't  so  very  well  acquainted  with  him; 
said  that  he  had  treated  him  in  a 
hospital — " 

"Yes,"  Brown  broke  in,  "that  was  when 
he  began  to  lose  his  mind.  He  is  awful 


now." 


"Poor  feller,"  said  the  old  man. 
"Mr.  Gladwell,"  I  cried,  "for  heaven's 
sake,  listen  to  me." 

I  attempted  to  tell  my  story,  but  failed 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

ingloriously.  The  old  man  stood,  sadly 
shaking  his  head,  and  wishing  that  he 
might  never  stir  again  if  he  wasn't  sorry 
for  me. 

"I  kain't  look  at  a  spectacle  like  this," 
said  he,  as  he  took  up  the  gun  which  I  had 
borrowed  of  him.  "I'll  go  up  to  the  cabin 
an'  fetch  his  traps." 

I  implored  him  to  believe  me;  but,  with 
horror,  I  saw  that  he  could  not.  Indeed, 
my  face,  voice,  and  actions  must  have  lent 
confirmation  to  Brown's  statement. 

"Old  man,"  said  Brown,  "can  I  hire  a 
wagon  and  team  of  you  for  a  day  or  so? 
I  want  to  take  my  poor  brother  away." 

"Yes.  Just  stay  right  here,  and  I'll 
send  it  down.  Poor  feller,  poor  feller !" 

The  conveyance  soon  arrived.  I  was 
lifted  into  the  wagon.  I  struggled  and 
struggled,  and  then  I  became  unconscious. 


HO  MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

When  I  regained  consciousness  it  was 
dark.  Not  a  star  could  be  seen.  The 
straw  on  which  I  lay  but  ill  protected  me 
against  the  sharp  bumps  caused  by  the 
roughness  of  the  road.  The  wagon  de 
scended  into  a  stream,  and  while  the 
horses  were  drinking,  I  distinctly  heard 
the  following: 

"How  much  farther  is  it,  Brown?" 

"About  two  miles." 

"It  is  rather  lucky  that  you  learned  of 
the  place?" 

"Yes,  very  much  so,  and  it's  lucky  that 
I  got  a  horse  and  rode  on  ahead,  for  the 
old  fellow  was  just  on  the  eve  of  leaving 
home  to  be  gone  several  days." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  Ill 

"So  he  built  the  place  to  accommodate 
a  crazy  son,  eh?" 

"Yes,  and  the  son  stayed  in  it  until  he 
died.  The  old  fellow  assures  me  that  my 
brother  can  not  escape." 

"You  have  to  pay  him  pretty  well,  don't 
you?" 

"Oh,  not  very  much.  He  lives  in  a 
fearfully  out-of-the-way  place,  and  to 
him  a  few  dollars  per  month  are  a 
godsend" 

Again  we  bumped  along.  "This  is  no 
time  for  raving,"  I  mused.  "The  more 
quietly  I  submit  the  better  will  be  my 
chances  of  escape.  If  my  keeper  is  the 
right  sort  of  a  man,  I  can  soon  convince 
him  of  Brown's  hellish  deception." 

A  dull,  gray  morning  broke.  I  could 
see  that  the  country  was  wild,  and  I  knew 
full  well  that  it  was  rugged.  A  murky 
sun  had  begun  to  shine  through  yellow 


112  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

vapors  when  we  drew  up  in   front  of  a 
large  log-house. 

"Good  morning,  Mr. Hicks,"said  Brown, 
as  he  got  out  of  the  wagon. 

"Good  mornin',  sir.  Good  mornin', 
gentlemen.  You've  got  him  here  all  right, 
have  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Brown,  "but  I  fear  that  he  is 
a  little  worse  for  the  ride.  Let  us  lift  hin? 
out.  Poor  fellow,  the  rope  has  cut  hia 
flesh." 

"Bring  him  this  way,"  said  the  man, 
who  was  evidently  to  become  my  keeper. 
Without  remonstrance  I  suffered  mysell 
to  be  taken  through  a  gate,  back  of  a 
house  and  then  into  a  stone  room,  as 
strong  as  a  fortress. 

"Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Hicks,"  said 
Brown.  "I  think  he  will  be  safe  enough 
with  you." 

"Oh,  I  think  so." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  113 

When  Brown  and  his  party  had  gone, 
I  said  to  my  keeper,  who  stood  looking 
through  the  grated  door: 

"I  wish,  sir,  you  would  remove  these 
ropes." 

"Yes,  I  was  jest  thinkin'  how  to  git  'em 
off." 

"Come  in  and  take  them  off." 

"I  could  do  that,  but  you  mout  hop  on 


me." 


"Nonsense!  What  good  would  that 
do?" 

"Wouldn't  do  but  mighty  little,  I  can 
tell  you;  but  you  ain't  supposed  to  know 
whuther  it  would  or  not." 

"I  can't  stand  this!" 

"I  know  it's  bad,  but  your  brother  said 
the  longer  I  kep'  you  tied  the  better  it 
would  be  for  me." 

"That's  more  nonsense.1* 

"Wall,  I  ain't  afeerd  o7  you.     Back  up 


114  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

ag'in  the  grate,  an'  I  kin  git  the  ropes 
off." 

He  took  off  the  cords.  They  were  cut 
ting  me  in  a  frightful  manner. 

"Now  you  are  all  right.  Feel  like  eatin* 
a  snack  ?" 

"Yes,  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  wolf.M 

"What'll  you  have,  corn-bread  or  hoe- 
cake?" 

"What  is  the  difference?" 

"Mighty  little,  but  I  am  willin'  to  give 
you  the  benefit  o'  what  little  thar  is." 

"All  right,  bring  me  something." 

He  went  away,  and  soon  returned  with 
about  as  good  a  breakfast  as  his  house 
could  afford.  My  room  was  furnished  with 
a  table,  a  chair,  and  a  small  bed.  When  I 
placed  my  breakfast  on  the  table  and  drew 
up  a  chair,  Mr.  Hicks  said: 

"It  is  a  pity  for  as  fine  a  lookin'  man 
as  you  air  to  be  penned  up  in  a  place  like 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  115 

this.  Ill  bet  you  used  to  be  a  valuable 
citizen.  I  expect  that  you  could  split 
about  as  many  rails  in  a  day  as  the  best 
man  in  the  neighborhood." 

I  had  to  laugh  at  this  absurd  compli 
ment.  I  don't  know  why,  but  there  was 
something  about  Hicks  that  amused  me. 
He  was  rather  "chunky,"  with  large  ears 
and  a  broad  mouth. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "a  man  like  you 
oughtent  to  be  penned  up.  What  did  you 
go  crazy  about?" 

"Well,  I  have  never  gone  crazy,  Mr. 
Hicks." 

"Thar,  we  won't  argy  that  p'int.  I  had 
a  son,  as  good  a  feller  as  ever  lived.  He 
fell  in  love  with  a  girl,  and  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  Well,  she  consented,  and  the 
day  was — won't  you  have  some  more  cof 
fee?  Whenever  you  want  anything  jest 
sneeze,  an'  I'll  fetch  it  to  you. — Yes,  the 


Il6  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

day  was  sot.  The  girl  'peared  to  love 
Will;  but,  bless  your  soul,  when  the  time 
come  she  turned  up  her  nose  at  him,  an1 
married  another  man.  This  was  more 
than  poor  Will  could  stand,  so  he  lost  his 
mind  right  then  and  thar.  I  didn't  want 
them  to  take  him  to  the  'sylum,  so  I  built 
this  place  for  him.  He  died  about  two 
months  ago." 

"That  was  unfortunate,  surely." 

"His  goin*  crazy  was,  but  his  death 
wa'n't.  I'd  ruther  be  dead  a  lifetime  than 
to  be  crazy  ten  minits." 

''Yes,  death  is  preferable.  Do  you 
know  how  far  it  is  from  this  place  to  Blue 
Rock  Springs?" 

"Let  me  see.  Blue  Rock  Springs? 
Well,  it  must  be  seventy-five  miles,  mebbe 
less,  but  ten  to  one  it's  more." 

"When  we  become  better  acquainted, 
Mr.  Hicks,  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  1 1  ^ 

"All  right,  but  wait  till  we  do  git  ac 
quainted,  fur  I  am  a  mighty  slow  hand  to 
believe  anything  a  man  tells  me." 

"I  don't  think  so." 

"Why?" 

"Because,  when  that  fellow  Brown  told 
you  that  I  was  his  insane  brother,  you 
believed  him  without  investigating  the 
matter.  If  you  are  so  careful,  why  did  you 
not  demand 'proof  of  my  insanity?" 

"Wall,  now,  I'll  be  hanged  if  you  ain't 
talkin*  sense;  but  don't  you  know  that 
crazy  men  air  the  smartest  folks  in  the 
world?  They  air.  My  son  Will  would 
sometimes  talk  like  a  preacher  an*  a 
scholar,  an*  we'd  think  he  was  comin' 
round  all  right,  but  when  we  turned  him 
out  he'd  go  wild  again.  No,  Mr.  Brown — " 

"My  name  is  Barker." 

"Wall,  I'll  call  you  anything  to  humor 
you.  Now,  Mr.  Barker,  I  want  you  to 


Il8  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

stay  in  this  room — an*  I  sorter  believe  you 
are  going  to  do  it,  too — till  everything 
comes  right.  Your  brother — I  mean  Mr. 
Brown — told  me  that  you  would  talk  your 
way  out  if  I  didn't  mind,  but  I  am  going 
to  mind." 

"Say,  did  Brown  bring  any  of  my 
books?" 

"No;  he  only  brought  a  few  suits  of 
clothes.  When  he  was  handling  your 
coat,  a  little  picture  dropped  out,  an7 
after  lookin'  at  it,  he  said  it  was  his 
sister's  picture,  an*  he'd  put  it  into  his 
pocket" 

Annie  Hill's  picture.  He  would  take 
it  to  her.  I  could  scarcely  restrain  myself, 
but  I  knew  that  an  outburst  would  strongly 
tell  against  me. 

"Have  you  any  books?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  I  believe  thar's  a  few  scattered 
around  somewhar." 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  I IQ 

I  handed  him  the  breakfast  dishes.  He 
went  away  but  soon  returned  with  a 
book. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "here's  a  book  that'll 
catch  you  goin'  an*  cominV' 

I  took  the  volume  and  looked  at  the 
title,  ColdfielcTs  Treatise  on  Insanity. 

"I  don't  want  this  book." 

"Wy,  you  don't  know  what  you  air 
talkin'  about.  It's  full  o'  interestin'  read- 
in'.  Tells  all  about  crazy  feilers,  an'  how 
they  act.  Give  it  here  if  you  don't  want 
it." 

I  gave  him  the  book;  he  looked  at  it  a 
moment,  and  then  said: 

"Pore  Will  used  to  read  this  book." 

"No  wonder  he  did  not  recover,"  I 
replied. 

He  smiled  rather  sadly,  but  I  don't  think 
that  any  recollection  of  trouble  could  have 
relieved  him  of  his  amusing  air. 


I2O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"I've  got  to  go  away  fur  a  day  or  two," 
he  said,  "but  I'll  leave  you  in  good  hands. 
My  wife  is  skeered  o'  crazy  folks,  but 
she'll  see  that  you  don't  need  nothin'. 
Good-bye  till  I  come  back." 

He  had  not  been  gone  many  minutes 
when  a  little  girl,  with  one  of  the  sunniest 
faces  I  have  ever  seen,  came  to  the  door. 

"How  are  you,  little  girl?" 

"Howdy?  Are  you  crazy  like  my 
brother  was?"  she  asked,  pressing  her  face 
against  the  bars. 

"No,  I'm  not  crazy." 

"Then  what  makes  my  pa  wanter  put 
you  in  here?" 

"He  thinks  I  am  crazy  because  a  bad 
man  told  him  that  I  am  crazy." 

"But  why  don't  you  tell  him  that  you 
ain't?" 

"I  did,  but  he  does  not  believe  me." 

"Well,  never  mind,  when  he  comes  back 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  121 

I  will  tell  him.  Don't  you  want  me  to 
bring  my  book  and  read  to  you?" 

"If  you  please." 

"She  ran  away,  singing  merrily  as  she 
went.  She  brought  a  little  stool,  and, 
placing  it  near  the  door,  she  sat  down, 
opened  a  primer  and  asked: 

"Must  I  read  about  the  great,  big  old 
owl  or  the  dog?" 

"Read  about  the  owl." 

She  read  a  brief  essay  on  the  owl,  and 
then  she  gave  me  a  few  large  lines  with 
regard  to  the  dog. 

"What  is  your  name?"  I  asked. 

"Vilsie." 

"That  is  a  pretty  name.  Now,  Vilsie, 
if  you  will  bring  me  a  pencil  and  some 
paper,  I  will  write  you  a  little  story  about 
a  good  little  girl." 

She  darted  away  without  replying,  and 
soon  returned  with  paper  and  pencil. 


122  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"Ma  says  I  mustn't  bother  you,  but  I 
don't,  do  I?" 

"No,  indeed  you  do  not." 

Just  as  I  had  sat  down  and  begun  to 
write,  some  one  said: 

"Vilsie,  you  must  not  bother  the  gentle 


man." 


I  looked  up,  and  saw  a  pleasant-looking 
woman  standing  near  the  door. 

"She  is  not  troubling  me  in  the  least,  I 
assure  you." 

"You  surely  do  not  look  like  a  crazy 
man,"  she  said. 

"That  I  am  far  from  being  crazy,  you 
soon  shall  find  out,"  I  replied.  "I  very 
well  know  that  insane  persons  sometimes 
appear  to  be  the  best  of  reasoners,  but 
still  they  can  not  help  but  show  their 
insanity  after  awhile.  I  will  show  you 
that  you  have  been  deceived." 

"My  husband  is  a  hard  man  to  con- 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

vince,"  she  said,  "but  I  will  assist  you,  for 
I  really  don't  believe  there's  anything  the 
matter  with  your  mind." 

"When  you  come  to  know  me  better, 
Mrs.  Hicks — I  happen  to  know  your  hus 
band's  name — I  shall  tell  you  a  story  that 
will  make  you  shudder.  I  have  been 
basely  treated." 

"I  am  half  inclined  to  unlock  this  door," 
she  said. 

"No,  wait  till  he  writes  my  story!"  Vil- 
sie  exclaimed. 

"Madam,  I  can  not  ask  for  so  great  a 
favor;  but  release  me,  and  you  shall  be 
liberally  rewarded." 

"I  want  no  reward,  only  the  conscious--, 
ness  that  I  have  done  right.    I  don't  know 
what  to  do.     I  must  think,"  she  added  as 
she  turned  away.     "Please  be  patient  un 
til  I  return." 

Mrs.  Hicks  soon  returned;  but  I  saw 


124  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

that  her  manner  had  undergone  a  change. 
•'Perhaps  I  am  relying  too  much  on  my 
own  judgment,"  she  said.  "You  have 
every  appearance  of  being  perfectly  sane, 
still  I  might  make  a  mistake.  When  Mr. 
Hicks  returns  I  will  see  what  can  be 
done." 

"Madam,  although  I  am  somewhat  dis 
appointed,"  I  replied,  "yet  I  must  thank 
you  for  your  good  opinion.  Little  girl," 
I  added,  turning  to  Vilsie,  "I  will  finish 
writing  your  story  after  I  have  told  one. 
Now,  Mrs.  Hicks,  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
something  that  may  place  a  great  strain 
on  your  credulity — for  it  really  does  not 
seem  that  a  scheme  so  vile  could  be 
planned  and  executed  in  a  Christian  coun 
try — but  which,  I  will  take  a  solemn  oath, 


is  true." 


Then,  as  dispassionately  as  possible,  I 
told  my  story.      Mrs.  Hicks  was  deeply 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  125 

impressed,  and  even  little  Vilsie  was 
affected. 

"Can  it  be  possible?"  Mrs.  Hicks  said 
when  I  had  concluded. 

"It  is  a  fact,  madam." 

"Why,  I  never  heard  of  anything  of 
the  kind  outside  of  a  novel." 

"No,  and  I  wish  this  had  not  occurred 
outside  of  one." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  my  husband  before 
he  left  home?" 

"He  would  not  have  believed  me." 

"You  are  right.  It  takes  a  great  deal 
to  convince  him.  His  son — my  step 
son  and  Vilsie's  half-brother — was  crazy, 
and  since  then  it  requires  but  little 
argument  to  convince  him  of  anyone's 
insanity.  In  every  other  respect  he  is 
extremely  incredulous.  Well,  I  must 
return  to  work.  Don't  let  Vilsie  bother 
you." 


126  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"She  is  company,  and  is,  therefore,  an 
enjoyable  luxury,"  I  replied. 

"Yes,  but  she  might  become  too  much 
of  a  luxury.  I  think  that  when  she  ceases 
to  be  a  necessity,  you'd  better  tell  her  to 
go  away.  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me  for 
inspiring  a  hope  and  then  crushing  it,  but 
as  I  say,  it  is  really  better  to  wait  until 
Mr.  Hicks  comes  back." 

"You  inspired  a  hope,  it  is  true;  but  the 
interest  you  continue  to  show  more  than 
repairs  the  crushing.  Now,  Vilsie,"  I 
added,  when  her  mother  had  gone,  "I  will 
finish  your  story." 

The  art  of  writing  stories  for  children 
is  not  easily  acquired;  but  I  must  have 
been  exceptionally  alive  to  youthful 
literary  demand,  for  Vilsie  was  delighted 
with  the  story. 

"Read  it  again,"  she  said. 

I  read  it  again.     She  thought  for  a 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

moment,  and  said  :  "If  you  will  read  it  to 
me  some  more  times,  I  can  read  it  to  my 
pa,  an1  then  he'll  know  you  ain't  crazy." 

"You  can  not  read  writing,  can  you?" 

"No,  sir;  but  if  you  read  it  some  more^ 
I'll  know  it  by  heart,  an'  can  'tend  like  I 
am  readin'  it." 

I  read  it  until  she  was  satisfied.  She 
took  the  manuscript  and  ran  away. 
Shortly  afterward,  I  heard  her  reciting 
the  story. 

The  day  passed  as  well  as  it  could 
possibly  drag  along  for  a  man  so  closely 
confined.  Mrs.  Hicks  brought  me  a 
book,  and  I  was  delighted  to  see  that 
it  was  not  a  treatise  on  insanity,  but 
an  old  copy  of  "Adam  Bede."  I  had  read 
the  book  years  before,  but  never  had  I 
entered  so  deeply  into  the  spirit  of  its  con 
ception,  nor  seen  so  plainly  the  masterly 
touches  of  its  execution.  How  different 


128  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

from  the  works  of  the  present  day!  I 
could  hear  Mrs.  Poysers  voice  as  she 
uttered  her  sharp  sayings,  and  I  could  see 
pretty  Hetty  as  she  moulded  the  golden 
butter. 

When  I  stretched  myself  on  my  bed 
that  night,  looking  deep  into  myself,  I 
almost  forgot  my  misfortunes  in  the  study 
of  my  literary  weakness.  My  book  was  a 
success;  but  how  shallow,  how  vapid  in 
comparison  with  the  great  work  I  had  just 
put  aside. 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  I2Q 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Mr.  Hicks  returned.  Before  he  came 
to  see  me,  I  heard  his  wife  say  to  him: 

"That  man  is  no  more  crazy  than  you 
are.  He  is  a  bad  man's  victim,  and  it  is 
your  duty  to  turn  him  out.'* 

"Let  us  wait  awhile,  mother;  let  us 
wait  awhile." 

"Well,  but,  Albert,  even  if  he  is  crazy, 
what  right  have  we  to  keep  him  shut 
up?  He  could  make  us  'smoke'  for 
this." 

"That's  all  well  enough;  but  we  ain't 
the  one's  to  blame.  His  brother — " 

"His  brother,  the  mischief.  That  man 
is  not  his  brother." 

"Well,  we  don't  know  about  that.  Mebbe 

9 


I3O  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

he  is,  an'  mebbe  he  ain't.  All  we  can  do 
is  to  wait  an1  see." 

"Yes,  but  while  we  are  waiting  to  see, 
this  poor  man  is  shut  up  in  prison.  It's 
not  right,  Albert." 

"Why  I  never  saw  a  woman  undergo 
such  a  change.  It  wa'n't  long  ago  that 
you  was  skeered  to  death  o'  crazy  folks." 

''I  am  afraid  of  crazy  folks,  but  I  am 
not  afraid  of  this  man,  for  he  is  not  crazy. 
Vilsie,  come  here,  and  read  that  story  to 
your  father," 

The  child  recited  the  story. 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Hicks,  "do  you  think 
a  crazy  man  could  write  like  that?" 

"That  ain't  no  proof,  Mollie." 

"What!" 

"I  say  that  ain't  no  proof,  for  mor'n 
two-thirds  o'  the  books  in  the  country 
was  wrote  by  crazy  men.  This  here 
writin'  fever  is  the  best  proof  o7  a  man's 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

insanity.  Don't  you  know  how  my  son 
used  to  scribble  ?" 

"Yes,  but  he  wrote  love  letters." 

"Makes  no  difference.  Writin'  is  writing 
an*  you  can't  make  nothin'  else  out  o1  it. 
Well,  we'll  put  off  this  here  discussion  till 
I  get  a  bite  to  eat,  for  I  am  as  hungry  as 
a  punkin-fed  hog." 

After  Mr.  Hicks  had  consoled  his 
appetite,  he  came  to  the  door  of  my 
prison. 

"Helloa,"  said  he,  "I  see  that  you  air 
still  here." 

"Yes,  it  seems  that  I  am." 

"My  wife  tells  me  that  she  come  mighty 
nigh  turnin1  you  loose." 

"She  seemed  to  sympathize  with  me." 

"Oh,  she  is  kind-hearted,  but  her  jedg- 
ment  ain't  always  the  best.  She  has  spent 
too  much  o'  her  time  'mongst  books  to 
have  the  best  jedgment  in  the  world 


132  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

Spoke  about  turnin'  you  out,  eh!  Well, 
I'm  glad  she  didn't,  for  I  might  have 
scolded  her  when  I  got  back." 

"If  my  remaining  here  has  saved  her 
from  a  scolding,  I  am  glad  that  she  did 
not  liberate  me." 

"'Bliged  to  you  for  the  compliment," 
said  Mr.  Hicks,  with  a  decided  return  of 
his  amusing  air. 

"Won't  you  come  in  and  sit  down?" 
said  I. 

"No,  I  believe  not.  You'll  please  ex 
cuse  me  for  not  bein*  more  neighborly, 
but—" 

"But  what?" 

"Well,  I  ain't  got  over  the  idea  that 
you  air  crazy.  Sometimes  I'm  afraid  that 
I'm  crazy  myself." 

"Now  look  here,  old  man,  this  imprison 
ment  is  getting  to  be  very  tiresome,  and 
while  I  expect  to  gain  nothing  by  making 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  133 

threats,  yet  I  must  tell  you  that  this  affair 
shall  be  investigated  in  a  court  of  justice. 
Brown  showed  no  certificate  proving  my 
insanity." 

"Yes,  but  he  proved  it  by  the  men  that 
came  with  him." 

"But  what  right  had  they  to  testify 
against  me?  He  had  shown  them  no  cer 
tificate  authorizing  my  confinement." 

"No,  for  he  said  you  got  out  o'  a  'sylum 
somewhar,  an1  another  certificate  wa'n't 
necessary." 

"Why  didn't  he  take  me  back  to  the 
place  from  which  he  said  I  had  escaped?" 

"Because  he  didn't  want  to  humiliate 
the  family." 

"Then  why  did  he  admit  having  taken 
me  there  in  the  first  place?" 

"I  don't  know.  Say,  podner,  you  air 
gittin'  down  a  little  too  close  for  me.  I 
ain't  no  lawyer." 


134  MRS'    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"It  does  not  take  a  lawyer  to  observe 
the  law.  You  are  laying  yourself  liable 
to  a  fine  and  imprisonment,  and  don't  you 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  I  intend  to  have 
this  affair  sifted.  For  a  few  dollars  a 
month  you  are  keeping  me  in  an  illegal 
prison  and — " 

"He  can  make  you  'smoke*  for  it,"  broke 
in  Mrs.  Hicks,  who  suddenly  appeared. 

"Mollie,  this  ain't  no  affair  o'  your'n, 
an*  the  less  you  meddle  with  it  the  better 
it  will  be  for  you.  Do  you  hear  me?" 

"Of  course  I  hear  you,  Albert,  but  after 
hearing  what  this  man  said,  we  are  a  pack 
of  fools  to  keep  him  here  a  minute  longer." 

"Mollie,  let  me  manage  this  affair." 

1  'You  have  managed  it  long  enough,  I 
think.  The  first  thing  you  know,  here'll 
come  a  sheriff  after  you." 

"Well,  confound  it,  madam,  what  am  I 
to  do?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  135 

"Open  this  door  and  let  the  man  go 
out." 

"Yes,  an'  he  might  set  the  house  afire 
out  of  spite." 

"I'll  risk  that,  Albert." 

"But  I  won't     Let  us  wait  awhile." 

"What  is  the  use  of  waiting  any  longer? 
The  longer  we  wait  the  worse  it  will  be 
for  us  when  the  matter  is  investigated." 

"Well,  we'll  see  about  that,  Mollie. 
Won't  do  to  be  too  brash,  you  know." 

"I  think  you  have  been  brash.  Come, 
now,  Albert,  open  the  door,  and  let  the 
poor  man  go.  Just  think  how  cruelly  he 
has  been  treated." 

"Mollie,  you  know  that  when  I  get  my 
head  set,  there's  no  use  in  talking  to  me. 
I  discussed  the  thing  with  Brown,  an* 
canvassed  all  the  p'ints;  an1,  by  the  way, 
you  agreed  to  have  him  put  in  here." 

"Yes,  for  at  that  time  I  believed  Brown, 


136  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

as  you  call  him,  was  honest;  but  now  I  do 
not;  and  besides,  at  that  time  I  thought 
this  man  was  crazy,  and  now  I  know  he  is 
not." 

"That's  all  very  well,  Mollie;  but  as  I 
tell  you,  there's  no  use  in  arguin'  with 


me." 


They  turned  away  and  continued  to 
talk  in  the  yard,  then  at  one  corner  of  the 
house,  then  at  another,  and  finally  their 
voices  mingled  with  the  sounds  of  the 
barnyard. 

Could  it  be  that  Hicks  would  keep  me 
imprisoned  merely  as  a  source  of  revenue 
to  himself?  Somehow,  his  amusing  air 
prevented  me  from  summing  up  a  satis 
factory  estimate  of  his  character.  The 
humorous  air,  I  have  discovered,  is  a 
stumbling  block  in  the  way  of  character 
reading.  A  man  can  hide  so  much  behind 
a  comical  expression  that  his  true  nature 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  137 

can  not  be  seen.  If  I  at  that  time  came 
to  any  definite  conclusion  with  regard  to 
Hicks,  I  decided  that  there  was  within 
him  a  thirst  for  gain  not  mild  enough  to 
be  legitimate. 

"I  fear  that  I  can  not  much  longer  main 
tain  this  calm  appearance,"  I  mused.  "I 
am  likely  to  fly  into  a  passion  at  any 
moment,  and  then  Hicks'  point  will  be 
carried.  Wonder  how  long  he  expects 
me  to  wait?  Wonder  how  much  Brown 
has  agreed  to  pay  him?  Probably  Mrs. 
Hicks  will  provide  me  with  the  means  of 
escape.  With  a  hammer  and  chisel  I 
could  soon  cut  my  way  out." 

Vilsie  came  and  sat  down  near  the  door. 

"Where  are  your  mother  and  father?"  I 
asked. 

"They  are  walkin'  round  in  the  lot 
quarrelin'  about  you.  Pa  is  awful  mad, 
an'  says  that  he  will  keep  you  here  until 


138  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

he  finds  out  all  about  you.      They  are 


comin'  now." 


Hicks  stopped  at  the  door,  but  his  wife 
passed  on  into  the  house. 

"Well,  Brown—" 

"My  name  is  Barker,  I  tell  you." 

"Well,  Barker,  I  have  convinced  my 
wife  that  it  is  better  to  keep  you  here 
until  we  hear  from  your  bro — I  mean 
until  we  hear  from  Brown.  I'll  get  a  let 
ter  from  him  in  about  three  weeks  from 
now.  If  I  don't  hear  from  him  by  that 
time,  why,  I'll  turn  you  out." 

"I  think  that  I  understand  you,  Mr. 
Hicks.  You  want  payment  for  one 
month's—" 

"Board,"  he  suggested.  "Can't  board 
you  for  nothin',  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  understand  you  perfectly.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  I  am  not  insane, 
and  now  that  you  have  me  here,  you  are 


MRS.   ANNIB  GREEN.  139 

determined  to  keep  me  rather  than  lose 
the  money  that  Brown  has  promised  you. 
You  do  not  seem  to  estimate  the  risk  you 
are  running.  You  are  just  as  much  of  an 
outlaw  as  if  you  were  to  go  out  on  the 
highway  and  rob  people." 

His  amusing  air  vanished  and  then  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  true  nature. 

"It  wouldn't  do  for  you  to  say  that  if  you 
were  on  the  outside.  Vilsie,  go  into  the 
house.  No,  sir,"  he  added,  wheu  the  child 
had  obeyed  him,  "it  wouldn't  do  for  you 
to  step  out  here  an*  say  that." 

"If  you'll  open  the  door  I  will  gladly 
^step  out  and  say  it." 

"Oh,  now,  wouldn't  you  like  to  step  out? 
You'd  take  to  your  heels  too  quick.  I 
guess,  old  feller,  you'd  better  stay  here 
awhile.  You  'pear  to  forgit  where  you 
air.  You  air  fifteen  miles  from  the  nearest 
post  office,  an'  air  way  off  the  road.  Nobody 


I4O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

comes  here,  an'  it  wouldn't  make  no  differ 
ence  if  somebody  was  to  come.  I  could 
say  that  you  was  my  crazy  son.  Brown 
promised  to  pay  me  well  for  keepin'  you, 
an'  if  he  sticks  to  his  word,  I'll  stick  to 
mine.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  you  infernal  scoundrel,  I  do,  and 
I  want  you  to  understand  something — 
that  I  have  friends  even  if  I  have  no  near 
relatives,  and  that  when  I  do  get  out,  it 
won't  be  good  for  you." 

He  grinned  maliciously  and  turned 
away. 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

During  the  next  two  days  I  saw  but  lit 
tle  of  the  Hicks  family.  Vilsie  came  to 
the  door  once,  but  her  father  ordered  her 
away. 

One  evening  Mrs.  Hicks  came  to  my 
door  and  said: 

"Mr.  Barker,  I  hope  you  will  not  think 
ill  of  me  for  not  paying  you  more  atten 
tion.  My  husband  is  very  angry  with  you, 
and  I  would  not  dare  to  speak  to  you 
now  if  he  were  at  home.  I  think  that  he 
has  an  appointment  to  meet  Brown  some 
where." 

This  was  unwelcome  news.  "I  fear, 
madam,  if  such  be  the  case,  it  will  not  be 
,well  for  me  when  he  returns.  Now,  let 


142  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

me  say  something  that  I  hope  you  will 
heed:  I  must  leave  here,  yet  I  know  that 
it  would  not  do  for  you  to  liberate  me — " 

"No,  indeed.  He  would  be  tempted  to 
kill  me,"  she  exclaimed. 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  make  such  a  sacri 
fice;  but  there  is  one  way  you  can  aid  me. 
You  can  provide  me  with — " 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  she  interposed,  "for  to 
assist  you  in  escaping  would,  in  his  sight, 
be  just  as  bad  as  opening  the  door  and 
telling  you  to  walk  out.  I  will  do  all  I 
can  for  you,  for  I  know  that  you  are  in 
bad  hands.  My  husband  is  not  a  good 
man.  The  poor  boy  he  had  here,  I  have 
suspected,  was  not  his  son.  From  a  paper 
I  found  I  was  led  to  believe  that  he  was 
hired  to  keep  the  boy.  I  know  that  he 
has  compelled  me  to  tell  a  dozen  or  more 
falsehoods  with  regard  to  him.  I  don't 
believe  the  boy  was  crazy." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  143 

"Why  did  you  marry  such  a  man?" 

"Because  I  was  a  fool." 

"There  is  nothing  attractive  about  him, 
and,  besides,  he  has  no  education." 

"I  know  all  that  now;  but  when  I  mar 
ried  him  I  was  a  fool.  I  thought  he  was 
wealthy,  and,  though  I  ought  not  to  con 
fess  it,  I  sold  myself;  but,  after  all,  I  think 
that  my  punishment  is  greater  than  the 
crime  justifies." 

"How  long  do  you  suppose  he  intends 
to  keep  me?" 

"I  think  that  all  depends  upon  the 
agreement  between  him  and  Brown.  If 
Brown  pays  him  enough  he  will  never  let 
you  out." 

This  was  far  from  comforting.  Perhaps 
I  might  never  regain  my  liberty. 

"Mrs.  Hicks,  I  still  have  a  favor  to  ask. 
I  desire  to  write  a  letter  to  a  friend." 

"You  could  not  send  the  letter  away. 


144  MRS-    ANNIE   GREEN. 

Mr.  Hicks  never  permits  me  to  go  to  the 
post  office." 

"Could  you  not  send  it  by  one  of  the 
aeighbors?" 

"Neighbors!  We  have  no  neighbors, 
one  ever  comes  here." 

"Ma,    oh,    ma,"    Vilsie    called,     "pa's 


Mrs.  Hicks  vanished,  and  shortly  after 
ward  I  heard  Hicks*  voice.  He  soon  ap 
peared  at  my  door. 

"How  are  you  gittin'  along?"  he  said, 
with  a  cynical  smile. 

"Oh,  splendidly,"  I  replied. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,  for  I  have  to  keep  you 
here  quite  a  while.  You  see,  I  always 
did  like  good  company.  By  the  way,  I 
seen  your  brother — or  rather  Brown — 
this  mornin'.  He  told  me  to  give  his  love 
to  you,  an'  to  tell  you  that  he  was  soon  to 
be  married  to  the  puttiest  little  widow  in 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  145 

the  country — Annie — Annie  somebody,  I 
forgit  her  other  name." 

"I  wish  I  had  a  gun,"  I  replied;  "I 
would  like  to  shoot  you." 

"Wouldn't  you,  though?  By  the  way, 
I've  got  a  gun  in  the  house,  an'  if  you 
don't  mind  stayin'  here  till  I  come  back, 
I'll  go  and  fetch  it  to  you." 

"Don't  put  yourself  to  any  trouble  on 
my  account,"  I  replied,  "for  you'll  have 
trouble  enough  after  awhile." 

"Oh,  yes,  we'll  all  have  trouble.  I  guess 
that  you've  hearn  that  this  is  a  world  of 
trouble.  Brown  thanked  me  for  my  kind 
ness  to  you,  but  advised  me  to  put  a  pair 
o*  bracelets  on  you.  He  is  afraid  you 
will  get  out  and  humiliate  the  family.  He 
is  a  mighty  considerate  man." 

Vilsie  suddenly  appeared,  and  told  her 
father  that  a  man  wanted  to  see  him.  I 

stood  near  the  door,  trying  to  catch  the 
to 


146  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

tones  of  a  voice.  Someone  stepped  into 
full  view.  My  blood  leaped.  I  saw  Dr. 
Hill. 

Old  Hicks  approached  Dr.  Hill,  and,  as 
I  was  within  earshot,  I  heard  the  conver 
sation  that  ensued. 

"How're  you?"  said  Hicks. 

"Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,"  the  doctor 
replied.  "By  the  way,  you  have  an  insane 
man  here  whom  I  want  to  see." 

"Wall,  you  kain't  see  him.  The  doctor 
has  give  orders  that  he  must  be  kep'  quiet. 
I  would  like  to  talk  to  him  myself,  but  the 
doctor  says  I  sha'n't,  an'  he's  a  good  doc 
tor,  too." 

"This  is  no  time  for  idle  banter,"  Dr. 
Hill  said,  turning  with  an  air  of  impa 
tience  and  making  a  hasty  survey  of  the 
premises. 

"Here,  doctor,"  I  called. 

He  came  rapidly  toward  me,  and  was 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  147 

pursued  by  Hicks,  who,  as  he  hurried 
along,  uttered  violent  protestations.  I 
stretched  forth  my  hand,  and  warmly 
greeted  the  doctor. 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "they 
have  got  you  in  a  close  place.  I  returned 
to  my  uncle's  several  days  ago,  and  when 
I  remarked  that  I  would  go  up  and  see 
you,  uncle,  with  many  words  of  sympathy, 
told  me  that  your  brother  had  taken  you 
to  an  insane  asylum.  I  knew  that  you 
had  no  brother,  and  instantly  my  suspi 
cions  rested  on  Brown.  Will  you  please 
stop  trying  to  shove  me  aside?"  the  doctor 
said,  turning  to  Hicks.  "Just  behave 
yourself,  and  then  if  you  have  anything 
to  say,  say  it.  I  explained  to  my  uncle," 
the  doctor  continued,  again  addressing 
me,  "and  convinced  him  of  Brown's  vil 
lainy,  although  at  first  he  was  firmly  con 
vinced  that  you  were  insane.  The  next 


148  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

move  was  to  find  out  where  you  had  been 
taken.  I  knew  that  this  would  be  difficult, 
and,  in  fact,  I  don't  know  that  I  should 
have  been  successful  had  I  not,  in  a  most 
fortunate  way,  met  a  man  who  assisted 
Brown  in  bringing  you  to  this  place.  I 
saw  that  he  was  fully  convinced  of  Brown's 
sincerity,  and  I  did  not  try  to  change  his 
mind,  especially  as  all  I  wanted  of  him 
was  direction  to  your  place  of  confinement. 
This  he  gave  as  well  as  he  could,  and  I 
set  out.  It  was  by  the  merest  chance 
that  I  found  this  place,  but  so  soon  as  I 
saw  it  I  knew  that  I  had  pursued  the 
right  course.  Now,  sir,"  the  doctor  added, 
"what  have  you  to  say?" 

"I  say  that  you  ain't  got  no  bus'ness  to 
come  meddlin'  round  here,  that's  what  I 
say.  This  man  is  as  crazy  as  a  butterfly, 
an*  I'm  goin'  to  keep  him  here  till  his 
brother  says  turn  him  out  Now  you  go 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  149 

on  back  in  the  hoir  e,  will  you?"  Hicks 
exclaimed,  turning  t  >  his  wife,  who  had 
just  made  her  appearance.  She  obeyed 
without  saying  a  word,  although  I  could 
see  that  she  was  anxious  to  assist  in  my 
liberation. 

"Yes,"  Hicks  continued,  again  address 
ing  the  doctor,  "I  want  yo  to  go  away 
from  here,  an'  when  I  want  you,  I'll  be 
mighty  apt  to  let  you  know.  I  ain't  a 
man  that  pesters  nobody,  an'  I  ain't  a  man 
to  let  nobody  pester  me,  let  me  tell  you. 
My  name  is  Hicks." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  make  your  acquaint 
ance,  Mr.  Hicks,"  the  doctor  replied.  "It 
is  not  often  that  I  ^  o  so  far  merely  to 
meet  a  man  who  is  a  stranger  to  me. 
Will  you  please  unlock  this  door?" 

"No,  I  won't." 

"You  are  desperate,  Mr.  Hicks.  Your 
financial  *eeds  must  indeed  be  pressing. 


ISO  MRS,   ANNIS  GREEN. 

There  are  but  few  men  who  can  thus 
afford  to  disregard  all  law," 

"I  know  what  I'm  doin',  an'  I  don't 
want  no  advice  from  you." 

"I  do  not  intend  to  waste  much  time 
in  giving  advice,  neither  do  care  to  en 
gage  in  a  violent  controversy  with  you, 
but  I  must  see  that  my  friend  is  set  at 
liberty." 

"Wall,  you  won't  see  it  until  I  hear 
from  this  crazy  man's  brother;  an*  now, 
'fore  I  forgit  it,  let  me  say  that  if  you 
begin  to  cut  up  round  here  you'll  wush 
you  hadn't  just  about  the  time  it's  too 
late.  I've  had  dealir"s  with  a  great  many 
men,  an'  none  o*  'en  ever  got  away  with 
me  yit.  If  the  wust  come  to  the  wust — 
an'  it  looks  might'ly  that  way  now — w'y 
I  ken  stan'  up  an'  fight  fur  my  rights  along 
with  the  best  man." 

"Oh,  you  mistake  me  if  you  think  that 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

I  intend  to  fight  such  a  burly  ruffian  as 
you  are." 

"Whut  air  you  goin'  to  do,  then?" 

"If  you  do  not  open  this  door  and  suf 
fer  this  gentleman  to  walk  out,  I  shall  lay 
the  matter  before  the  proper  authorities, 
and  then,  if  there's  any  fighting,  it  will 
take  place  between  you  and  the  sheriff." 

Old  Hicks  laughed.  "W'y,  man,"  said 
he,  "do  you  think  that  I  ain't  got  no  better 
sense  than  to  let  you  go  to  the  authorities 
an'  tell  a  pack  o'  lies  about  me?  I  know 
this  here  country  a  heap  better  than  you 
do,  an'  if  you  start  out  in  the  direction 
of  the  sheriff,  w'y  the  road  is  so  rough 
that  your  buggy  mout  fall  offen  a  bluff. 
Buggies  have  fell  offen  bluffs,  you  know, 
an'  folks  said,  'poor  feller,  his  hoss  run 
away  with  him.'  Yes,  it's  powerful  danger* 
ous,  I  tell  you." 

Dr.  HilPs  face  grew  pale,  and  with  a 


152  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

sinking  heart  I  saw  the  danger  he  would 
incur  in  attempting  to  liberate  me.  Hicks, 
quickly  perceiving  the  advantage  he  had 
gained,  continued: 

"Nobody  ever  said  that  I  was  a  bad 
man,  an'  nobody  more'n  me  would  grieve 
ef  somebody  was  to  git  hurt  in  this  neigh 
borhood." 

"You  are  even  more  desperate  than  I 
thought  you  were,"  the  doctor  replied. 
"However,  I  do  not  intend  to  be  bullied 
by  you.  I  hate  violence  as  much,  per 
haps,  as  any  man  living,  but  I  have  never 
been  so  badly  frightened  as  to  run  away 
from  duty.  Open  this  door,  or  I'll  go  and 
inform  the  authorities." 

The  calmness  of  voice,  and  the  deter* 
mined  air  which  was  ever  noticeable  in 
his  bearing,  returned.  I  knew  that  if  he 
left  with  the  avowed  intention  of  calling 
on  the  sheriff,  he  would  go  at  the  risk  of 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

ftis  life,  but  should  I  not  persuade  him  to 
forego  the  risk?  Would  I  not  do  as 
much  for  him?  Yes,  but  still  I  somehow 
thought  it  would  be  asking  too  much  of 
him. 

"Doctor,"  said  I,  "you  must  be  careful. 
Think  of  the  risk  you  will  run." 

"Not  much  risk,"  Hicks  replied,  "that 
is,  to  a  man  that  knows  the  neighbor 
hood.  Thar's  a  good  many  bad  bluffs 
between  here  and  the  court  house." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "and  you  are 
giving  me  one  of  the  bluffs  now." 

"All  right,  if  you  think  so;  have  it  your 
own  way." 

"Well,  I  have  talked  long  enough. 
Good  day." 

"Hold  on!"  said  Hicks.  "What  will 
you  give  me  to  open  the  door?" 

"Not  a  d— d  cent!"  the  doctor  indig 
nantly  replied. 


154  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"All  right." 

The  doctor  hastened  away.  I  heard 
his  buggy  wheels  rattling  over  the  stones, 
as  he  drove  down  the  hill.  Hicks,  who 
had  not  left  the  door,  turned  to  me,  and 
said: 

"That  friend  o'  yourn  is  foolish." 

"No;  you  are  foolish." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"I  certainly  do." 

"Wall,  let  me  tell  you  something,  and 
you  won't  think  so.  This  friend  o'  yourn 
mout  fall  offen  a  bluff  an'  get  killed—" 

"But  a  witness  who  could  throw  much 
light  on  the  affair  could  be  produced." 

"Oh,  yes,  an'  one  man  that  thinks  he 
knows  something  mout  be  outen  the  way 
by  the  time  they  wanted  him." 

"Very  true,  but  my  friend's  uncle  knows 
that  he  started  out  in  search  of  me." 

"Yas,  but  mebbe  the  old  man  ain't  in 


M&3,  ANNIE  GREEN.  155 

good  health.  You  must  be  a  fool  to 
think  that  I  am  goin*  to  give  up  a  pile  o' 
money  on  account  o'  any  foolishness. 
Your  brother  has  obligated  himself  to 
pay  me  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  to 
keep  you,  with  the  understanding  that  ef 
you  die — ef  you  die,  understan* — he  will 
do  the  handsome  by  me.  Now,  I  would 
ruther  see  you  live,  an*  I  want  you  to  take 
good  kere  o'  yourself.  Wall,  I  must  go." 


156  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Shortly  after  Hicks  left  my  door,  Mrs. 
Hicks,  in  a  state  of  much  excitement, 
suddenly  appeared. 

"Oh,  we  will  all  be  ruined,"  she  said. 
"Hicks  has  followed  that  man." 

"Is  it  possible  that  he  would  commit 
murder?" 

"Oh,  yes,  he  would  do  anything.  Out 
in  this  wild  place  the  officers  themselves 
have  but  little  respect  for  the  law.  I  don't 
know  what  to  do,  for  he  told  me  just  be 
fore  he  left  that  if  you  escape  during  his 
absence  he  will  kill  me." 

She  ran  away,  wringing  her  hands  as 
she  went.  I  sat  down  on  my  bed  and 
tried  to  think.  My  situation  was  more 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  157 

desperate  than  it  had  ever  been.  That 
Hicks  would  murder  my  friend,  I  could 
not  entertain  a  doubt.  I  tried  to  reason 
with  myself.  The  doctor  might,  by  keep 
ing  a  sharp  lookout,  see  Hicks  in  time  to 
shoot  him;  but  was  the  doctor  armed? 
Surely  he  would  not  have  undertaken  so 
perilous  an  expedition  without  being 
armed.  "What  difference,  though,  will  it 
make  if  he  be  armed?"  I  mused.  "Hicks 
will  see  that  he  has  no  chance  to  use  his 
weapon."  I  worried  myself  into  a  fever. 
The  day  slowly  wore  away  and  a  dreary 
evening  came.  I  strained  my  ears  to 
catch  every  sound,  but  I  could  hear  noth 
ing  save  the  occasional  bark  of  a  dog  or 
the  lowing  of  the  cattle.  Mrs.  Hicks 
brought  my  supper. 

"Has  your  husband  returned?"  I  asked. 

"No,  he  must  have  failed  to  overtake 
your  friend." 


158  MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

"If  he  should  overtake  him,  do  you 
think  that  the  doctor  would  have  a  chance 
to  defend  himself?" 

"Of  course  not.  Do  you  suppose  that 
Hicks  would  give  anybody  a  chance?" 

"No,  no.  I  don't  know  why  I  was  so 
foolish  as  to  ask  such  a  question." 

"The  truth  is,"  the  woman  continued, 
"Hicks  won't  exactly  overtake  your  friend. 
He  will  find  out  the  course  he  is  pursuing 
and  then  whip  round.  He  took  his  rifle 
with  him,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't 
think  there's  any  show  for  your  friend." 

"Why,  suppose  he  shoots  him,  can  not 
the  officers  see  that  he  has  been  shot?" 

"No,  not  if  he  is  shot  in  the  head.  You 
see,  after  shooting  him,  Hicks  can  throw 
him  over  a  precipice,  then  go  down  and 
mash  his  head  with  a  stone." 

I  shuddered.  My  poor  friend  was  prob 
ably  dead  Was  he  not  rash?  Had  it 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  159 

not  been  better  to  make  an  attempt  to 
buy  Hicks? 

"The  horse  and  buggy,"  continued  Mrs. 
Hicks,  "will  also  be  thrown  over,  and  the 
impression  will  be  created  that  the  un 
fortunate  man  drove  off  the  bluff." 

"When  your  husband  returns,  will  you 
please  slip  out  and  tell  me?" 

"Yes,  if  I  possibly  can.     Good-night." 

I  gave  myself  up  to  ill-boding  medita 
tion.  I  thought  of  the  first  time  I  met 
Mrs.  Annie  Green.  Could  I  have  looked 
a  little  way  into  the  future  how  I  should 
have  fled  from  her.  What  an  unconscious 
fool  I  was  in  attempting  to  break  her  re 
serve.  Were  rny  misfortunes  a  judgment 
visited  upon  me  for  attempting  to  draw 
her  into  conversation  against  the  will  of 
her  husband?  Cartwrigh^s  face  came  up 
before  me,  and  I  convulsively  struck  at  it. 
I  saw  Brown's  hellish  grin.  The  per- 


I6O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

spiration  of  cold  agony  rolled  down  my 
face.  Was  that  someone  at  the  door?  I 
went  to  the  door  and  peered  through  the 
grating.  I  saw  the  outlines  of  a  dog. 
"Ah,  you  are  better  than  some  human 
beings,"  I  said  as  I  thrust  forth  my  hand. 
The  brute  snapped  at  me.  "At  any  rate 
you  are  no  worse,"  I  remarked  as  I  with 
drew  my  hand.  How  slowly  the  time 
passed.  I  could  see  the  moon  rising. 
Would  it  never  get  above  the  tops  of  the 
trees?  A  wolf  howled,  and  the  dog  that 
had  snapped  at  me  barked  in  defiant  re 
ply.  A  screech-owl  alighted  on  my  prison 
and  uttered  his  eerie  cries,  and  a  night- 
hawk,  far  away,  shrieked  in  distressing 
cadence.  The  moon  was  at  last  above 
the  tree  tops,  and  a  silvery  bar  of  light 
fell  at  my  feet.  Hicks  would  not  permit 
me  to  have  a  light  in  my  cell.  Oh,  what 
a  merciless  wretch! 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  l6l 

"Mr.  Barker." 

'That  you,  Mrs.  Hicks?" 

"Yes." 

"Has  he  returned?" 

"No." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"About  ten  o'clock." 

"No  later  than  that?  It  seems  an  age 
since  the  sun  went  down.  What  do  you 
suppose  is  keeping  him  so  late?" 

"I  don't  know.  It  may  be  that  your 
friend  has  given  him  the  slip." 

"I  earnestly  hope  so." 

"I  do,  too;  but,  after  all,  it  may  be  but 
little  better  for  you.  Hicks  is  not  alone. 
I  think  that  he  has  several  confederates, 
and  if  your  friend  has  given  him  the  slip, 
he  may  come  back  and  have  you  removed 
before  the  sheriff  can  get  here.  Oh,  you 
don't  know  what  a  place  this  is.  It  is  at 

least    seventy-five   miles  from    anything 
11 


1 62  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

that  can  be  called  a  town,  and  the  few 
people  who  do  inhabit  the  country  are  but 
little  better  than  outlaws.  Well,  I  must 
go  back.  When  he  comes  I  will  either 
come  myself  or  send  Vilsie  to  tell  you." 

I  sat  down  on  my  bed  again.  "I  hope 
that  the  doctor  has  escaped,  even  if  I  am 
removed,"  I  mused.  "He  will  never  stop 
until  he  finds  me  again." 

I  lay  down  and  attempted  to  sleep. 
The  moon  had  lifted  the  silver  bar  from 
my  door,  and  my  cell  was  as  dark  as  mid 
night. 

"Is  that  a  wagon  coming?"  I  mused. 
"I  hear  something  rattling  along  the 
road.  It  is  a  wagon — it  is  coming  up  the 
hill.  Gods!  it  has  stopped  at  the  gate." 

I  knew  that  I  could  see  nothing,  but 
I  pressed  my  face  against  the  bars.  I 
heard  voices,  and  then  I  heard  someone 
groan.  I  heard  the  shuffling  of  feet,  and 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  163 

then  all  was  silent.  Again  I  heard  voices 
in  the  yard,  and  then  I  heard  the  wagon 
roll  away.  I  waited  i_.d  waited.  Would 
no  one  ever  come?  If  Mrs.  Hicks  could 
not  come,  why  did  she  not  send  Vilsie?  I 
heard  footsteps. 

"Mr.  Barker." 

"Yes." 

"I  would  have  come  sooner,  but  I  could 
not  get  off,  and  I  would  have  sent  Vilsie, 
but  she  could  not  tell  you  so  well  as  I  can. 
My  husband  is  dangerously  wounded." 

"What !"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  One  of  the  men  who  brought 
him  home,  told  me  all  he  knew.  'I  was 
standing  in  my  yard,7  said  he,  'when  a 
man  drove  up  and  told  me  that  he  had 
shot  a  man  named  Hicks.  Hicks,  it  seems, 
snapped  a  gun  at  him,  and  he  shot  Hicks 
with  a  revolver.  I  got  a  wagon,  and 
together  with  several  neighbors,  went  as 


164  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

directed,  and  found  the  wounded  man.'  I 
do  not  think  that  he  can  recover,"  Mrs. 
Hicks  added. 

"Thank  God,  that  my  friend  has  es 
caped,"  I  exclaimed.  "Now,  Mrs.  Hicks, 
as  there  is  no  longer  any  danger  so  far  as 
you  are  concerned,  can  you  not  open  the 
door?" 

"My  husband  has  the  key  in  his  hand, 
and  he  will  not  let  me  take  it.  He  thinks 
that  you  want  to  come  in  and  kill  him. 
The  sheriff  and  his  men  will  soon  be  here, 
and  then  what  will  become  of  me?" 

"No  one  will  molest  you,  Mrs.  Hicks." 

"Yes,  but  I  will  be  homeless." 

"No;  I  will  see  to  that." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you.  I  know 
that  you  are  a  kind-hearted  man.  Good 
night.'' 

"Thank  God!"  I  repeated  again  and 
again.  My  friend  was  safe,  and  my  own 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  165 

deliverance  was  near  at  hand.  I  could 
hear  the  groans  of  the  wounded  man,  but 
I  was  not  hypocritical  enough  with  my 
self  to  acknowledge  that  I  in  the  least 
sympathized  with  him.  His  sufferings 
must  have  been  great,  but  he  deserved  to 
suffer,  for  he  had  brought  it  upon  himself. 
I  have  never  been  squeamish  with  regard 
to  the  methods  or  the  intensity  of  punish 
ment  employed  by  the  God  of  retribution. 
I  sought  my  bed  and  endeavored  to  sleep, 
but  I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  force 
my  way  through  a  brick  wall.  Would 
daylight  never  come?  How  time  does 
stop  and  mock  a  man's  impatience!  The 
cocks  began  to  crow,  but,  confound  them, 
they  often  crew  at  midnight.  I  went  to 
the  door  and  peered  through  the  grating. 
A  drizzling  rain  was  falling,  but  a  dull, 
grayish  light  seemed  to  be  settling  down. 
Hicks  had  ceased  groaning.  Perhaps  he 


1 66  MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

was  dead.  If  so,  why  did  not  Mrs.  Hicks 
take  the  key  and  let  me  out?  I  had 
almost  worried  myself  into  a  fever,  when 
I  heard  the  trampling  of  horses,  and  then 
I  seized  the  bars  and  shook  them  as  I 
heard  buggy  wheels  rattling  over  the 
stones.  I  tried  to  shout,  but  my  voice 
failed  me,  and  then,  ashamed  of  my  im 
patience,  I  waited  in  silence.  I  heard 
voices.  A  light  came  toward  me,  and — I 
could  not  help  it — I  uttered  a  cry  of  joy 
as  Dr.  Hill  approached  the  door. 

"Helloa,  Barker,  you  are  still  here,  I 
see,"  he  said,  as  he  inserted  a  key  in  the 
lock. 

"Yes,  I  am  here.  You  certainly  did 
not  expect  that  I  would  run  away." 

"I  didn't  know.  Now,  you  are  all 
right,"  he  added,  as  the  door  swung  open. 

I  seized  the  doctor's  hand. 

"That  will  do,  now.     No  foolishness, 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  167 

remember.  I  am  sorry  I  had  to  shoot 
your  landlord,  but  I  had  to  do  it  to  save 
my  own  life.  Come  in,  and  let  us  see  how 
he  is  getting  along." 

Hicks  no  longer  wore  an  amusing  air. 
He  lay  on  his  back,  breathing  heavily. 
The  doctor's  bullet  had  done  its  work  well. 
The  sheriff  and  two  men,  all  rough-looking, 
stood  near.  Mrs.  Hicks,  holding  the  little 
girl  on  her  lap,  sat  on  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"You  air  all  thieves,"  said  Hicks. 
"The  sheriff's  a  thief,  an'  he  knows  that  I 
know  it.  If  my  gun  hader  gone  off,  you 
d — d  rascal,  you  wouldn't  be  standin'  thar 
lookin'  at  me." 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you?"  Mrs. 
Hicks  asked. 

"Yes;  you  ken  let  me  alone,  damn  you. 
Hadn't  been  for  you  I  would  have  killed 
the  lunatic,  got  money,  an'  lit  out  from 
here." 


1 68  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Mr.  Hicks,"  said  the  doctor,  "you'd 
better  not  try  to  talk." 

"Go  to  hell,  will  you!  I  am  in  my  own 
house,  an'  I'll  talk  as  much  as  I  please. 
Git  outen  here,  all  o'  you.  Vilsie,  what 
air  you  snortin'  about?  I  don't  .want  none 
o'  yer  cryin'  round  here.  Never  mind. 
Thar's  comin'  a  day  when  we'll  straighten 
all  this  business  up." 

"Mr.  Hicks,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  am 
very  sorry  that  this  has  happened,  and  if 
it  were  in  my  power,  I  would  help  you, 
but  it  is  not.  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty, 
however,  to  tell  you  that  you  can  live  but 
a  very  short  time.'' 

"You  air  a  liar!"  Hicks  savagely  re 
torted. 

"You  are  dying  now,  Mr.  Hicks." 

"Liar!" 

I  could  see  that  death  had  marked  his 
face.  His  breathing  became  more  diffi- 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  169 

cult.  The  doctor  leaned  over  the  bed. 
The  dying  man  whispered: 

"Liar." 

That  was  his  last  whisper.  "He's 
gone,"  said  the  doctor,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Hicks.  The  woman,  taking  Vilsie  in  her 
arms,  arose  and  said: 

"Little  darling,  your  father  is  dead. 
Don't  cry.  It  is  better  for  us  both." 

"Barker,"  the  doctor  remarked,  "we 
will  stay  here  until  to-morrow,  and  bury 
him.  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  go 
back  with  the  sheriff.  I  gave  myself  up 
to  the  authorities  when  I  reached  the 
county  seat,  and  shortly  afterward,  a  man 
who  had  seen  the  wounded  man,  and 
heard  him  confess  that  he  had  tried  to 
kill  me,  came  forward  and  testified  that  I 
had  acted  in  self-defense,  whereupon,  I 
was  discharged.  These  men  accompanied 
me  to  protect  me  against  any  violence  on 


170  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

the  part  of   Hicks'  confederates.     I  c<d 
not  anticipate  any  danger." 

"We  didn't  know,"  replied  the  sheriff, 
"but  thar  mout  be  some  danger.  By  the 
way,  Mrs.  Hicks,  'Squire  Alson,  that's  got 
charge  o'  the  matter,  told  me  to  tell  you 
that  he  wants  you  to  teach  school  in  our 
neighborhood.  You've  got  a  brother 
livin'  over  thar  at  the  Plains,  too." 

"What?"  the  woman  exclaimed. 

"Yes;  Bob  Bradley.  He's  been  livin1 
thar  fur  some  time,  but  wouldn't  come 
out  here  'cause  your  husband  threatened 
to  kill  him  ef  he  did." 

"Mr.  Hicks  never  told  me  that  brother 
Bob  lived  there,"  the  woman  sobbed. 
"He  said  that  brother  Bob  was  dead." 
'  "Well,  he  ain't  dead.  He  looks  like 
he's  fur  from  it.  About  as  peart  a  man 
as  you've  seen  for  many  a  day.  You'll 
go,  I  reckon." 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

"Yes,  I  will  go,  and  I  thank  God  that 
an  opportunity  is  afforded  me.  Mr.  Bar 
ker,"  she  added,  turning  to  me,  "you 
said  that  you  would  see  me  provided  for. 
I  now  gladly  relieve  you  of  the  obligation 
which  you  so  generously  took  upon  your 
self." 

"Oh,  no,  Mrs.  Hicks,"  I  replied,  "I  owe 
you  a  debt  which  I  can  never  discharge, 
but  I  insist  upon  making  the  attempt. 
You  shall  hear  from  me  soon.1* 


172  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

We  spent  a  dreary  day  and  a  dreary 
night.  Mrs.  Hicks  could  not  help  but 
show  that  she  felt  the  advantage  of  escape 
from  a  long  season  of  slavery,  and  even 
little  Vilsie  was  soon  made  to  understand 
that  her  condition  would  be  changed  for 
the  better,  but  occasionally  her  grief  broke 
out  in  piteous  sobs.  The  sheriff  made  a 
coffin,  rude,  but  as  he  expressed  it,  com 
fortable  enough.  The  burial  was  dreary 
indeed.  A  chilling  rain  was  falling,  and 
the  child  was  not  permitted  to  see  the 
grave. 

"You  can  ride  a  hoss,  I  reckon,"  said 
the  sheriff,  addressing  Mrs.  Hicks. 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  173 

"Oh,  yes,  I  hardly  know  how  to  ride 
any  other  way," 

"Well,  we'll  give  the  cattle  as  much  as 
they  want  to  eat  and  then  put  them  out. 
You  can  send  a  wagon  back  after  the 
plunder,  an'  hire  some  boys  to  drive  the 
cattle  down." 

I  bade  the  good  woman  and  pretty 
child  good-bye  with  more  emotion  than 
clearness  of  expression. 

The  doctor  and  I,  seated  in  his  buggy, 
were  soon  rattled  along  over  the  rough 
road  in  the  direction  of  Blue  Rock  Springs. 

"I  suppose  you  are  now  thinking  of 
Brown,"  the  doctor  said,  after  an  interval 
of  silence. 

"Yes." 

"I  knew  it.  What  steps  do  you  intend 
to  take?" 

''I  shall  swear  out  a  warrant  for  his 
arrest." 


174  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 


"What?" 

"I  say  no." 

"You  certainly  can't  object,  doctor." 

"I  certainly  do,*  he  replied. 

"Why,  don't  you  want  to  see  the  infer 
nal  scoundrel  brought  to  justice?" 

"Of  course,  I  would  like  to  see  him 
brought  to  justice  —  to  the  gallows,  for 
that  matter  —  but  you  must  know  that  his 
arrest  and  trial  would  lead  to  many 
embarrassing  statements  on  the  witness 
stand.  Sister  Annie  will  be  compelled 
to  come  forward  and  —  " 

"That's  a  fact,  doctor." 

"Ah,  hah,  don't  you  see  how  thought 
less  you  are?' 

"You  are  right,"  I  said,  after  a  mo 
ment's  reflection.  "I  would  not  myself 
like  to  get  up  and  tell  how  I  met  Mrs. 
Green  and  fell  in  love  with  her;  how 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  175 

Brown  took  advantage  of  me,  and  how 
he  introduced  a  woman  as  my  wife." 

"Oh,  I  thought  you'd  understand  it 
after  awhile.  You  literary  fellows  have 
more  originality  than  judgment." 

"What  would  you  advise  me  to  do,  doc 
tor?" 

"There  you  go,  always  wanting  advice." 

"Well,  according  to  your  own  state 
ment,  I  stand  in  need  of  advice." 

"That's  a  fact,"  he  replied.  "Now,"  he 
continued,  "in  this  case  sentiment  arises 
above  everything  else.  You  want  to 
prove  to  sister  Annie  that  you  love  her, 
that  you  were  never  married,  and  that 
you  are  ready  to  make  the  most  devoted 
husband  in  the  country." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  prove  all  that,  but  how 
am  I  to  do  it?" 

"Well,  you  stay  at  Uncle  Gladwell's 
and  I  will  go  and  see  Annie.  Now, 


176  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

don't  be  fidgety.  You  are  ready  to  flutter 
like  a  rooster  with  his  head  cut  off.  After 
all  that  has  passed  I  think  that  I 
can  convince  Annie  of  your  truthfulness 
and  general  collection  of  Christian  vir 
tues." 

The  road  was  fearfully  rough,  the  day 
was  cheerless.  As  evening  came  on  we 
grew  uneasy  lest  we  should  be  compelled 
to  pass  the  night  without  shelter,  but 
just  as  it  began  to  grow  dark,  we  came 
upon  an  old  log-house.  We  drove  up 
and  found  that  the  house  was  uninhab 
ited.  We  took  the  horse  inside  and 
stabled  him  in  one  corner,  and  as  we  had 
brought  plenty  of  corn  the  animal  soon 
proved  that  he  was  quite  at  home.  We 
rolled  in  a  couple  of  stumps,  broke  up 
several  dry  boards  and  soon  had  a  cheer 
ful  fire.  We  had  brought  a  lunch,  and  I 
don't  know  that  I  could,  in  all  that  region 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  177 

of  country,  have  spent  a  more  cheerful 
evening. 

"I  didn't  see  this  house  when  I  came 
across  this  infamous  country,"  said  the 
doctor,  "and  I  was  compelled  to  stay  all 
night  in  the  woods/7 

"That  was  bad." 

"Yes,  rather,  but  not  so  bad  as  it  could 
have  been." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  could  have  been 
much  worse." 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "how 
strangely  you  do  talk.  At  that  time  I 
would  not  have  exchanged  places  with 
you." 

"You  are  right,"  I  replied.  "I  would 
rather  be  in  a  swamp  than  to  be  in  prison. 
Gracious,  the  face  of  that  dead  man 
comes  up  before  me!" 

"That's  all  very  well,  for  there  is  no 

danger;  but  if  it  were  to  come  up,  squint- 
id 


178  MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

ing  one  eye  and  taking  sight  at  you  with 
a  rifle,  then  you  might  look  out." 

"How  far  do  you  suppose  we  are  from 
Blue  Rock  Springs?"  I  asked,  anxious  to 
change  the  subject. 

"About  forty  miles." 

"We  haven't  come  very  far  to-day  after 
all." 

"No,  for  we  hadn't  a  vefry  early  start, 
you  know.  Had  to  perform  the  last  sad 
rites  of  a  deceased  fellow  countryman. 
To-morrow  we'll  get  an  early  start, 
and,  if  we  have  luck,  we'll  get  to  the 
Springs  some  time  during  the  afternoon. 
Then,  after  resting,  I  shall  take  the 
train,  go  to  the  city,  and  call  on  sister 
Annie." 

"You  don't  suppose  she  has  married 
Brown." 

"I  don't  know,"  he  carelessly  replied. 

"You  don't  know!" 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  179 

'Of  course  not  Women  are  very 
peculiar." 

"Oh,  don't  talk  that  way." 

"Look  here,  man,  can't  you  take  a 
joke?  Of  course  I  do  not  believe  that 
she  has  married  Brown." 

"Say,  doctor,  I  wish  you  would  tell  me 
one  thing." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Why  did  your  sister  marry  old  man 
Green?" 

"Now,  why  the  deuce  do  you  ask  me 
such  a  question?" 

"Because  I  want  to  know." 

"No,  I  won't  tell  you.  I  don't  like  to 
think  of  it." 

"Not  for  money,  I  hope?" 

"No,  she  didn't  know  he  was  worth 
anything." 

"She  certainly  did  not  love  him." 

"How  could  sh*?" 


l8o  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"Then—" 

"Never  mind,  now,  I  am  not  going  to 
tell  you." 

"I  wish  I  knew." 

"Why,  confound  it,  Barker,  you've  got 
as  much  curiosity  as  a  woman." 

"Yes,  when  the  woman  above  all  others 
is  concerned." 

"Well,  let  us  spread  down  our  blankets 
and  turn  in  for  the  night." 

We  got  an  early  start  the  next  morning. 
We  soon  came  upon  a  better  road.  Long 
before  we  came  within  the  neighborhood 
of  Blue  Rock  Springs,  I  strained  my  eyes 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  old  hotel.  At 
last  we  came  within  sight  of  the  place. 
Old  man  Gladwell  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  gallery.  He  came  to  meet  us. 

"Well,  I  wish  I  may  never  stir  ag'in  ef 
I  don't  think  you  air  crazy  sometimes, 
tryin'  all  sorts  o'  fool  experyments  that 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  l8l 

cost  money,"  he  said,  addressing  the  doc 
tor.  "Come  on  in  the  house.  The  nigger 
will  put  up  the  hoss.  Barker,  I  never  did 
expect  to  see  you  ag'in." 

Mrs.  Gladwell  was  delighted  to  see 
me.  "I  knowed  you  wa'n't  crazy,"  she 
said.  "I  knowed  it  as  well  as  I  knowed 
I  was  alive.  Ain't  you  mighty  nigh 
starved?" 

I  confessed  that  I  had  brought  an  appe 
tite  with  me,  and  the  doctor  vowed  that 
he  was  as  hungry  as  a  wolf.  When  we 
sat  down  to  the  table,  the  old  man  asked 
me  to  relate  my  experience.  I  did  so,  up 
to  a  certain  point,  and  then  stopped.  I 
did  not  care  to  tell  him  that  the  doctor 
had  killed  Hicks. 

"Wall,  how  did  you  git  out  at  last?" 

"I  will  tell  the  rest,"  replied  the  doctor. 
Then  he  told  how  he  had,  in  self-defense, 
killed  Hicks.  Mrs.  Gladwell  raised  her 


l82  MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

hands  in  horror.  The  old  man,  with  an 
expression  of  astonishment,  said: 

"I'm  glad  you  killed  him.  He  ought  to 
be  dead." 

"Don't  say  that,"  his  wife  interposed. 

"Wall,  he  ought.  When  a  man  ain't 
fitten  to  live  he  ought  to  be  dead.  Pore 
woman,"  referring  to  Mrs.  Hicks,  "what 
a  dog's  life  she  must  have  led.  You  are 
goin'  to  do  a  handsome  thing  by  her, 
ain't  you,  Mr.  Barker?" 

"Yes,  I  shall  never  be  satisfied  until  I 
see  her  comfortably  established  in  a  home 
of  her  own." 

That  night  I  slept  in  my  cabin.  What 
a  glorious  retreat  it  was!  Early  the  next 
morning  Dr.  Hill  came  to  see  me. 

"Barker,"  said  he,  "I  have  concluded 
not  to  go  to  town  immediately." 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  going  to  see 
your  sister." 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  183 

"I  was,  but—" 

"But  what?" 

"She  is  down  at  Uncle  Gladwell's 
house." 

The  doctor's  announcement  almost  stu 
pefied  me,  and,  unable  to  reply,  I  stood 
and  gazed  at  him. 

"Now,  look  here,"  said  he,  "I  don't 
want  you  to  act  a  fool.  I  should  think 
that  you  have  recently  gone  through 
enough  to  teach  you  effectually  the  doc 
trine  of  self-possession." 

"Does  she  know  that  I  am  here?1 

"Of  course  not." 

"Why,  of  course  not?" 

"Do  you  think  that  I  had  no  better 
sense  than  to  tell  her?  If  I  had  told  her, 
she  would  have  gone  away  immediately; 
and  I  took  the  additional  precaution  of 
requesting  uncle  and  aunt  not  to  mention 
your  name.  I  could  not  explain  to  them, 


184  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

yet  I  told  them  enough  to  enforce  silence. 
Now,  I  want  you  to  go  down  quietly  and 
see  her — meet  her  as  an  old  friend,  instead 
of  an  impassioned  lover.  Now,  look  at 
you,  ready  to  rush  down  and  vow  that  you 
have  bought  a  razor  with  which  you 
intend  to  whittle  yourself  into  the  finest 
possible  strips.  Take  that  wild  look  out 
of  your  eyes.  If  you  don't  behave  your 
self  I'll  swear  that  you  are  crazy.  Now, 
you  look  more  like  a  sane  man." 

I  became  strangely  calm,  and  I  felt  that 
I  could,  without  the  slightest  agitation, 
meet  Mrs.  Green. 

"Come  on,  doctor,"  said  I.  "Let  us  go 
at  once.  I  can  meet  her  quietly." 

"Wait  a  moment,  Barker.  You  must 
promise  not  to  mention  Brown's  name, 
and  you  must  not  speak  of  your  imprison 
ment." 

"I  promise." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  185 

"Well,  then,  come  on." 

Just  as  we  stepped  upon  the  gallery 
of  the  old  hotel,  I  heard  Mrs.  Green's 
voice.  She  was  in  the  family  sitting- 
room,  talking  to  her  uncle  and  aunt  I 
hesitated  a  moment  at  the  door,  but  the 
doctor  gently  urged  me  forward.  Just  as 
I  entered  the  room,  Mrs.  Green,  catch 
ing  sight  of  me,  sprang  to  her  feet,  but 
before  she  could  say  anything,  the  doctor 
remarked: 

"Annie,  this  is  an  old  acquaintance  of 
yours.  Met  each  other  here  when  this 
was  a  summer  resort." 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  shrewdly  divin 
ing  the  doctor's  meaning,  "we  did  meet 
here.  Mr.  Barker,  I  am  pleased  to  see 
you  again." 

She  advanced  and  extended  her  hand. 
I  took  her  hand  with  an  air  of  quietude 
that  required  a  great  effort,  and  during 


1 86  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

the  moment  that  I  held  it,  I  attempted  to 
gaze  into  her  eyes,  but  her  eyes  were 
averted. 

"Sit  down,"  she  said,  gracefully  turning 
and  offering  me  a  chair.  "Uncle,  you 
and  aunt  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  Barker, 
I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  old  man  replied,  "he  does 
his  eatin'  here  and  his  sleepin'  in  the 
cabin." 

"Then  of  course  you  are  acquainted," 
she  said,  turning  to  me  with  a  smile  that 
made  my  blood  leap. 

"Yes,"  I  rejoined,  "and  I  find  them  to 
be  most  interesting  associates." 

"I  don't  like  to  leave  you,"  said  the 
doctor,  who  had  remained  standing,  "but 
the  fact  is,  I've  got  some  riding  to  do  this 
morning." 

"Well,  I  wish  I  may  never  stir  ag'in  if 
that  boy  ain't  always  on  the  pad,"  the  old 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  1 87 

man  declared.  "My  greshus,  don't  you 
never  git  tired?  Well,  plague  take  him, 
he  don't  stop  long  enough  to  hear  what  a 
body's  got  to  say.  Now,  mother,  what 
air  you  stirrin'  round  about?"  he  continued, 
addressing  his  wife,  who  had  arisen. 

"Dan,  it  ain't  none  of  your  bus'ness, 
I'm  a  thinkin'.  Ain't  a  body  got  a  right 
to  move  about?  Mr.  Barker  ain't  had  no 
breakfast  yet." 

"That's  so.  You're  nearly  always  right, 
an' — an'  so  am  I.  Annie,  stay  with  us  a 
while  an'  you'll  soon  see  how  two  old  folks 
can  jower  at  each  other  an'  still  both  be 
right." 

"Mrs.  Gladwell,  I  do  not  care  for  break 
fast  this  morning,"  said  I. 

"Well,  for  pity's  sake,  Annie  hasn't  tuck 
your  appetite,  has  she?"  the  old  lady  asked 
as  she  gave  me  a  look  of  surprise. 

"Oh,  no,"  I  rejoined,  "I  took  it  myself, 


1 88  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

took  it  so  effectually  last  night  at  supper 
that  I  am  far  from  being  hungry  now." 

"Mother,"  said  the  old  man,  "let  him 
have  his  own  way.  When  a  man  can't 
eat,  he  can't,  but  it  ain't  that  way  with  a 
woman.  She  can  eat  any  time." 

"Dan,  I  do  wisht  you'd  hush.  Any 
body  to  hear  you  talk  would  think  that  a 
woman  ain't  fitten  to  live.  Your  mother 
was  a  woman,  I  reckon." 

"Well,  since  you've  mentioned  it,  I 
believe  she  was." 

Mrs.  Green  laughed  heartily  and  her 
eyes,  of  which  I  caught  a  glimpse,  danced 
merrily;  and  there  was  about  them  that 
glorious  light  which  had  at  first  irresisti 
bly  drawn  me  toward  her. 

"Dan,  I  ain't  got  time  to  jower.  I  must 
go  about  my  work,"  the  old  lady  said. 

"So  must  I,"  he  replied. 

Together  they  quitted  the  room.    Mrs. 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  189 

Green  and  I  were  alone.  How  strange 
it  all  seemed.  Why  could  I  not  declare 
my  innocence  of  all  imputations  that  had 
been  made  against  me?  Why  could  I  not, 
now  that  Dr.  Hill  had  spoken  in  my  favor, 
convince  her  of  Brown's  villainy  ?  No,  I 
had  promised  not  to  speak  of  Brown. 
The  doctor  had  shown  that  he  was  a  true 
friend.  I  could  not,  regardless  of  the 
question  of  honor,  break  faith  with  him. 
Mrs.  Green  did  not  appear  to  be  in  the 
least  confused.  She  sat,  engaged  in  some 
sort  of  crochet  work,  oblivious  it  seemed 
of  recollections  which  she  must  have 
known  were  bitter  to  me. 

"You  have  enjoyed  good  health  during 
the  time  that  has  elapsed  since  we  last 
met,  I  hope,"  said  I. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  well,  but  not  fortunate." 
"I  hope  that  you  have  not  been  very 
unfortunate." 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN. 

"  But  I  have.  In  fact,  I  have  lost  nearly 
all  my  money." 

"Why,  you  surprise  me." 

"It  surprised  me  at  first,  but  things  are 
sometimes  surprising  and  yet  mercilessly 
true.  I  was  foolish,  I  admit,  but  I  con 
sented — having  been  importuned  by  an 
old  friend  of  Mr.  Green's — to  invest  my 
money.  Well,  I  lost.  I  had  never  owned 
as  much  property  as  people  accredited  me 
with  possessing,  and  nearly  all  I  had  was 
soon  swept  away." 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  your  mis 
fortune,  but  after  all  it  may  show  who  are 
really  your  friends." 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  it  can  not  be  helped 
now,  and  I  shall  endeavor  to  make  the 
best  of  it." 

"You  still  own  your  house  in  the  city, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"No,  that  has  been  sold.     To  tell  you 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

the  truth,  I  have  no  home.  I  have  but  a 
few  hundred  dollars." 

"Does  your  brother  know  of  your  mis 
fortune?" 

"He  knows — for  I  told  him  this  morn 
ing — that  I  have  lost  money,  but  he  has 
no  idea  how  much ;  but  let  us  not  speak 
at  such  length  of  misfortune.  Let  us 
turn  to  the  good  fortune  which  has  come 
upon — " 

"Upon  whom?"  I  asked,  when  she 
hesitated. 

"Upon  you." 

"You  are  mocking  me." 

"Oh,  no.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know 
how  popular  you  have  become.  Your 
book,  as  you  doubtless  know,  is  a  brilliant 
success,  and  your  short  stories  well  merit 
the  high  praise  that  is  bestowed  upon 
them.  I  have  a  perfect  passion  for  litera 
ture,  but  I  am  not  successful." 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

"Perhaps  you  have  not  tried." 

"Yes,  indeed  I  have.  I  have  written 
several  stories." 

"Several  stories?"  I  laughingly  replied. 
"Why,  you  do  not  call  that  trying.  I 
worked  during  ten  assiduous  years  before 
I  thought  that  I  had  made  a  vigorous 
attempt." 

"Strange  words,  coming  from  a  genius," 
she  said. 

"Genius,"  I  repeated,  somewhat  bit 
terly;  "why,  madam,  there  is  no  genius, 
except  it  be  whole-soul  desire  and  persist 
ent  effort.  The  genius  works  late.  When 
he  goes  to  bed  the  oil  in  his  lamp  is  low. 
He  sometimes  labors  with  the  energy  of 
despair,  and  after  all,  he  at  last  sees  suc 
cess  through  a  mist  of  tears." 

"Mr.  Barker,  you  are  quite  enough  to 
discourage  an  aspirant  for  the  honors 
which  rest  so  becomingly  upon  you." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  193 

"It  is  difficult,  Mrs.  Green,  to  discour 
age  the  true  aspirant." 

"Oh,  well,  perhaps  I  am  not  a  true 
aspirant.  Do  you  know,"  she  suddenly 
broke  off,  "that  it  is  so  strange  that  we 
should  be  sitting  here?" 

"Yes,  when  I  look  back  upon  what 
I  have  passed  through,  it  does  seem 
strange." 

"And  pray,  sir,  tell  me  what  you  have 
passed  through,  if  it  be  so  much  more 
than  has  fallen  to  my  lot." 

"I  have  passed  through  an  Inferno — " 
I  hesitated. 

"Tell  me." 

"No,  not  now." 

"Please  tell  me." 

"I  really  can  not." 

"Why?1 

"Because  I  promised  your  brother  that 
I  would  not." 

18 


1 94  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Promised  my  brother!" 

"Yes." 

"And  what  right  had  he  to  exact  such 
a  promise?" 

"I  can  not  even  tell  you  that/' 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  a  rather  rueful 
air  and  a  beautiful  arching  of  her  eye 
brows,  "when  he  comes  back  I  will  ask 
him." 

"Very  well,  ask  him." 

"I  will.  Do  you  know  that  you  seem 
to  have  undergone  a  change  since  we  last 
met?" 

"Outwardly,  possibly  so;  inwardly,  none 
whatever." 

"The  change  must  be  an  inward  one 
since  you  have  not  railed  out  against 
a  man  whom  I  know  you  heartily  de 
spise." 

"I  will  not  speak  of  him." 

"Why?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  1 95 

"Because  I  promised  your  brother  that 
I  would  not." 

"Well,  now  this  is  all  indeed  mysterious. 
What  right  has  brother  to  exact  such 
promises?  Please  answer  this  question." 

"I  can  not." 

"Then  you  ignore  me  in  favor  of 
him?" 

"Oh,  no." 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Mrs.  Green,  some  day  you  shall  know 
how  you  have  been  imposed  upon,  and  I 
will  say  now  that  it  seems  strange  how  so 
sensible  a  woman  as  you  can  be  so  easily 
duped." 

She  frowned  slightly,  arose,  sat  down 
again,  and  said: 

"I  don't  think  you  have  a  right  to 
reproach  me." 

"Oh,  I  do  not  claim  such  a  right/* 

"Then  why  do  you  exercise  it?" 


196  MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

"If  I  have  exercised  it,  I  have  done*  s* 
innocently." 

"Innocent  remarks  that  sting  are  rarely 
premeditated,"  she  replied.  "Innocent 
remarks,  like  the  joy  of  a  child,  come 
without  thought.  Your  reproaches  have 
been  weighed  by  you." 

"Mrs.  Green,  let  us  not  drift  into  a 
controversy.  I  have  seen  and  heard 
enough  that  is  unpleasant  to  last  me 
for  a  lifetime,  I  think,  and,"  I  added 
with  an  attempt  to  be  cheerful,  "I  shall 
not  complain  if  I  never  again  hear 
anything  unpleasant.  The  day  is  beauti 
ful;  let  us  stroll  out  to  the  place  where 
the  old  summer-house  used  to  stand." 

"No,"  she  replied,  slowly  shaking  her 
head.  "Among  ruins  one  can  indulge 
ennobling  sentiment,  but  when  the  ground 
is  entirely  bare,  there  is  nothing  upon 
which  to  hang  a  wreath  of  fond  musing. 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  1 97 

Not  a  vestage  of  the  summer-house 
remains.  See,"  she  added,  arising  and 
going  to  the  window,  "the  calves  are  lying 
among  the  dead  weeds  where  the  old 
house  stood." 

Old  man  Gladwell  entered  the  room 
and  said  he  thought  we  should  have  more 
rain,  regardless  of  the  bright  promises 
borne  on  the  sunshine.  "My  j'ints  have 
been  stiff  all  the  mornin',"  said  he,  "an'  I 
know  in  reason  that  we'll  have  fallin' 
weather.  It's  a  pretty  hard  matter  to 
fool  me  about  rain,  Barker,  fur  although 
I  never  was  very  fur  from  home,  yit 
I  have  knocked  round  a  right  smart. 
Annie,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  with  us 
ag'in.  You  never  was  much  of  a  high 
flyer,  an'  you  never  did  furgit  your  old 
uncle." 

"Uncle,  I  never  could  forget  you.  I 
never  forget  anybody." 


198  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

I  ventured  to  look  up.  She  was  gazing 
far  out  through  the  window. 

The  old  man  was  right.  Clouds  came 
over  and  a  chilling  rain  began  to  fall. 
The  old  lady  brought  her  spinning-wheel 
into  the  sitting-room,  where  the  "rolls" 
would  keep  warm,  and  hummed  an  accom 
paniment  to  our  conversation. 

"Mother,"  said  Mr.  Gladwell,  when  his 
wife  had  stopped  the  wheel  and  begun 
to  busy  herself  with  wrapping  a  piece  of 
corn  husk  around  the  bright  steel  spindle, 
"how  much  longer  air  you  goin'  to  traipse 
up  an'  down  the  room?" 

"For  pity  sake,  Dan,  ain't  a  body 
allowed  to  spin?"  she  asked,  turning  upon 
the  old  man. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  a  body  ought  not  to  spin 
all  the  time.  Ricolleck  what  the  Bible 
says,  'Man  can't  live  by  bread  alone  an' 
woman  can't  live  if  she  spins  all  the  time.'" 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  199 

"Dan,  the  Bible  don't  say  no  sich  thing> 
an'  you  know  it." 

"Well,  it  does  say  one  part,  mother,  an' 
the  other  part  follows  nachul." 

"Oh,  you  'tend  to  your  own  affairs  an' 
I'll  'tend  to  mine." 

The  old  man  attempted  to  reply,  but 
she  turned  her  wheel  with  such  a  loud 
hum  that  his  voice  was  drowned, 

Whenever  I  looked  at  Mrs.  Green,  I 
saw  her  long  eye-lashes  fall.  How  I  did 
yearn  to  take  her  in  my  arms.  Had  Brown 
ceased  paying  her  attentions?  Did  she 
still  believe  that  he  was  true  and  that 
I  was  false?  "She  would  tell  me  if  I  were 
to  ask,"  I  mused.  "Why  was  I  so  big  a 
fool  as  to  make  so  rash  a  promise?" 

At  dinner,  Mrs.  Green  and  I  sat  oppo 
site  each  other.  Once  I  caught  her  look* 
ing  at  me.  She  blushed. 

The  next  day  was  cold  and  disagree- 


20O  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

able.  A  calf  came  out  from  under  a  shed 
and  stood  on  the  site  of  the  old  summer- 
house.  The  quivering  animal  reminded 
me  of  a  shivering  hope — a  hope  that  had 
passed  from  a  chill  into  a  fever  and  then 
back  into  a  chill  again. 

During  the  day  I  sought  an  oppor 
tunity  of  a  private  conversation  with  Mrs. 
Green,  and  though  she  did  not  seem 
purposely  to  avoid  me,  yet  she  did  not  ap 
pear  to  encourage  my  efforts.  The  next 
morning  at  the  breakfast  table  she  said: 

"Mr.  Barker,  brother  will  return  to-day, 
and  I  am  going  to  ask  him  to  release 
you." 

"How  release  him?"  Gladwell  asked. 

"Why,  Mr.  Barker  made  brother  a 
promise  and  I  want  brother  to  release 
him." 

"That's  easy  enough." 

"Oh,  yes,  it's  easy  enough,  but  I  don't 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  2OI 

know  that  he  will,  Are  you  willing,  Mr. 
Barker?" 

"Yes,  I  am  more  than  willing." 

I  anxiously  watched  for  the  doctor's 
coming,  and  having  grown  tired,  I  went 
up  to  my  cabin  and  attempted  to  read,  but 
I  found  no  delight  in  the  finest  prose; 
found  no  thrill  in  the  greatest  verse.  I 
endeavored  to  write,  but  I  could  fish  no 
thought  from  my  ink-bottle. 

I  heard  voices,  and,  stepping  to  the 
door  and  looking  out,  I  saw  the  doctor 
and  his  sister  approaching.  Mrs.  Green 
waived  her  hat  at  me. 

"Now,  sir,"  she  said,  as  she  and  the 
doctor  neared  the  door,  "brother  says 
that  you  may  say  what  you  please." 

"Barker,"  Dr.  Hill  remarked,  before  I 
had  time  to  reply  to  Mrs.  Green,  "Annie 
seems  extremely  anxious  that  you  should 
make  love  to  her." 


2O2  MRS,    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"Why,  brother!"  she  exclaimed,  "you 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself."  She 
had  turned  upon  him  with  a  glowing  face 
and  with  eyes  full  of  charming  embarrass 
ment — that  indescribable  glow  that  pre 
cedes  the  tear. 

"I  understand  the  doctor,  Mrs.  Green," 
I  quickly  declared.  "He  would  rather 
assist  in  one's  embarrassment  than  to 
receive  an  autograph  letter  from  Escu- 
lapius/' 

"Yes,"  she  assented,  turning  to  me  with 
a  smile,  "or  to  be  arrayed  in  purple  and 
fine  linen." 

"I  must  say,"  the  doctor  replied,  "that 
I  don't  hold  fine  linen  in  very  high  esteem 
such  weather  as  this.  I  hope  you  have  a 
good  fire,"  he  added,  as  he,  followed  by 
his  sister,  entered  the  cabin.  "Well,  you 
have  got  a  fire.  Sit  down  over  there, 
Annie.  I  want  the  rocking-chair.  Well, 


MRS.    ANNIE  GREEN.  203 

go  ahead,  then,  if  you  must  have  it.  Bar 
ker,  there's  nothing  more  attractive  than 
a  fire-place.  Wouldn't  give  a  cent  for  a 
stove — except  in  cold  weather.  Well,  let 
us  go  down  to  the  house.  The  old  folks 
will  remain  in  the  kitchen  and  let  you  and 
Annie  talk  over  your  troubles  in  the  sit 
ting-room." 

"We  have  had  no  troubles  in  a  sitting- 
room,"  Mrs.  Green  remarked,  giving  her 
brother  a  charming  look  of  mischief. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  he,  "if  you  want  to  dis 
cuss  rhetoric  we'll  throw  aside  everything 
else  and  enter  regularly  into  that  busi 


ness." 


"Let  us  go  down  to  the  house,"  I  sug 
gested.  "Come,  Mrs.  Green,  we  do  not 
care  to  discuss  rhetoric." 

"You  and  Annie  go  on,"  said  the  doc 
tor,  "I'll  be  down  after  awhile." 

We  left  the  doctor  sitting  in  the  cabin, 


204  MRS-    ANNIE   GREEN. 

and  leisurely  pursued  our  way  toward  the 
house.  The  clouds  seemed  to  be  drifting 
away  from  my  life,  and  I  could  see  the 
faint  gleams  and  feel  the  warmth  of 
coming  sunshine.  That  the  fair  creat 
ure  at  my  side  loved  me,  no  observant 
person  could  doubt ;  still  she  might  not 
believe  me  to  be  sincere.  Surely  she 
could  not  suspect  her  brother  of  treachery. 
I  don't  think  that  we  exchanged  half  a 
dozen  words  as  we  walked  from  the  cabin, 
but  when,  after  arriving  at  the  house,  we 
had  seated  ourselves  near  the  great  fire 
place — just  within  hearing  of  the  old 
lady's  spinning-wheel,  which  sent  out  its 
ceaseless  droning  from  the  kitchen — we 
began  to  talk  with  a  freedom  which  I  had 
feared  would  be  wanting.  Before  attempt 
ing  to  clear  myself  of  any  charge  which 
had  been  brought  against  me,  I  told  of 
my  abduction  and  imprisonment — told 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  205 

how  Dr.  Hill  had  liberated  me.  She  sat 
gazing  into  the  fire.  Not  once  during 
the  recital  did  she  raise  her  eyes. 

"Is  it  possible  that  all  this  can  be  true?" 
she  said  in  an  absent  way,  as  if  her 
thoughts  had  found  expression  without 
her  consent. 

"It  is  true,"  I  replied. 

She  started,  looked  at  me,  became  con 
fused,  stammered  something,  and  then 
gave  way  to  tears.  I  did  not  attempt  to 
restrain  her  emotion.  I  could  possibly 
have  said  little  more  than  "please  don't 
cry,"  and  I  had  sense  enough  to  permit 
her  to  weep  herself  into  that  semi-soothed 
state  which,  by  right  of  conquest,  is  a 
woman's  zone. 

"I  have  learned  much  since  my  trials 
began,"  I  at  length  said.  "Where  I  was 
once  wild  and  passionate,  I  am  now 
strangely  calm." 


2O6  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"That's  because  you  don't  love  me  any 
more,"  she  replied,  with  a  little  wh  mper. 

An  impulse  urging  me  to  take  her  in 
my  arms  was  strong,  but  I  was  determined 
to  act  wisely. 

"If  I  did  not  love  you  I  would  not 
strive  to  impress  you  with  the  truth  of 
my  story." 

''Oh,  if  I  only  knew,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  of  supplication,  "if  I  only  knew." 

"If  you  only  knew  what?" 

"That  you  have  told  me  the  truth." 

"Ask  your  brother." 

"He  doesn't  know." 

"Doesn't  he  know  whether  or  not  he 
released  me  from  prison?" 

"Oh,  yes,  but  that  is  not  what  I  mean. 
The  story  that  Mr.  Brown  took  you  by 
force  and  locked  you  up,  does  not  prove 
that  the  woman,  the  tall  woman,  is  not 
your  wife.  I  believe  now  that  Brown  is 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  2O7 

a  villain,  and  I  have  reconciled  myself  to 
everything  except  the  belief  that  the 
woman  whom  Brown  introduced  is  your 
wife,  I  have  been  happy  in  the  thought 
that  you  love  me — I  have  heard  your 
earnest  voice,  have  seen  your  eyes  looking 
at  me,  and  then — then,  I  have  felt  a  cold 
presence,  a  cold  stare,  and — and  that 
woman  would  be  looking  at  me.  At  night 
she  stood  by  my  bedside;  at  morning  I 
would  find  her  hovering  over  me,  and 
gazing  at  me  with  her  cold  eyes  of  gray 
stone.  I  have  many  a  time  thought  that 
I  was  losing  my  mind.  I  found  out 
where  she  lived,  and  I  wrote  to  her,  beg 
ging  her  to  come  to  my  house.  She 
would  not,  but  appointed  a  day  when  I 
might  call  on  her  at  the  hotel  where  she 
boarded.  I  called.  The  first  thing  I  saw 
when  I  entered  the  room— yes,  even  before 
I  caught  sight  of  those  hateful,  haunting 


2O8  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

eyes — I  saw  your  picture  hanging  on  the 
wall.  Wait  until  I  get  through,  Mr.  Bar 
ker.  You  said  that  you  had  learned  to 
be  calm." 

"I  will  be  calm,  Mrs.  Green.  Pray 
proceed." 

I  had  arisen,  and,  greatly  agitated,  had 
begun  to  move  about  the  room.  When  I 
had  sat  down,  the  beautiful  creature, 
whose  wonderful  hair,  having  broken 
loose  from  its  fastening,  fell  in  a  glorious 
maze,  continued: 

"The  first  thing  I  saw  was  your  pic 
ture  hanging  on  the  wall.  I  was  almost 
furious — oh,  you  don't  know  me.  I  could 
have  snatched  it  from  the  wall  and  torn 
it  to  pieces,  but  I  pretended  not  to  see  it. 
The  cold  eyes  were  turned  full  upon 
me. 

"  'Will  you  please  be  seated,'  the  woman 
said. 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  2OQ 

"I  sank  upon  a  chair  and  waited  for 
her  to  speak  again.  I  had  but  a  minute 
to  wait. 

"  'I  suppose  you  have  come  to  talk  to 
me  of  my  husband,'  she  said. 

"  'I  have  come  to  speak  of  Mr.  Barker,' 
I  replied,  'but  now  that  I  am  here,  I 
hardly  know  what  to  say.' 

"  'Then,  surely  your  mission  can  not  be 
one  of  much  importance.' 

"  'It  is  to  me;  it  may  not  be  to  anyone 
else,  but,'  I  added,  having  to  some  extent 
recovered  myself,  'I  only  desire  to  ask 
you  a  few  questions.  When  were  you 
and  Mr.  Barker  married?' 

"She  arose,  without  a  moment's  hesita 
tion,  and  brought  me  a  marriage  certifi 
cate.  'It  is  rather  singular,'  she  said, 
'that  you  should  be  so  much  interested  in 
my  affairs.  Just  at  present,  my  husbanc} 
seems  to  be  the  object  of  a  peculiar  kind 

14 


210  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

of  charity.  I  don't  remember  that  I  have 
ever  called  for  help,  or  even  petitioned 
for  sympathy.  I  am  unfortunate,  I 
admit.  Mr.  Barker  is  not  in  his  right 
mind.' 

"I  hurried  away  from  the  awful  pres 
ence  of  that  woman.  I  could  not  have 
looked  at  her  a  moment  longer  without 
committing  violence.  My  mind — I  am 
insanely  frank  to  acknowledge  all  this — I 
say  my  mind  was  so  distraught  that  I  paid 
no  attention  to  the  money  which  was 
slipping  away  from  me.  I  did  not  care, 
I  could  not  feel  that  it  was  my  duty  to 
care.  I  came  down  here  not  in  the  least 
expecting  to  see  you,  but  now  that  I  have 
seen  you,  now  that  the  reserve  is  broken, 
I  can  not  help  but  speak  freely.  Now, 
Mr.  Barker — no,  don't  come  near  me. 
You  know  that  I  love  you,  that's  enough. 
Sit  down  there,  now,  or  I  will  not  say 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  211 

another  word.  What  have  you  done  with 
your  wonderful  calmness?" 

"Mrs.  Green — Annie,  for  God's  sake 
let  me  say  a  word.  I  will  swear  by  all 
the  saintly  souls  in  heaven,  and  by  all  the 
endearing  ties  on  earth,  that  the  woman 
who  claimed  to  be  my  wife  is  an  impos 
tor,  employed  to  play  the  shameless  part 
arranged  for  her,  by  the  man  who  has 
done  me  so  much  injury." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barker,  I  will  pray  for  faith 
enough  to  make  my  belief  in  you  implicit, 
but  now,  I  don't  know  why,  I  can  not  see 
my  way  clear.  I  fancy  that  my  condition 
is  something  like  the  state  into  which  a 
person  who  has  been  bitten  by  a  dog  is 
thrown.  Calm  reasoning  may  teach  that 
there  is  no  danger  to  be  apprehended 
from  hydrophobia,  yet  an  awful  doubt — a 
doubt  that  unseats  all  argument — arises. 
I  know  you  are  true.  I  know  you  love 


212  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

me,  but  just  as  such  a  belief  begins  to 
soothe  me,  I  hear  the  mad  snap  of  the 
dog — I  see  the  poisonous  foam." 

I  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  I  had  never 
seen  a  woman  so  excited.  I  was  fear 
ful  that  her  mind  might  be  seriously 
affected. 

"I  will  believe  you,"  she  said.  "Yes,  I 
will.  You  do  love  me,  don't  you?  Yes, 
I  know  you  do!" 

She  placed  a  stool  near  my  chair,  sat 
down  and  clasped  her  hands  over  my 
knee.  I  put  my  arm  around  her,  and, 
with  an  expression  of  sweetest  confidence, 
she  raised  her  lips  to  meet  a  kiss. 

"Annie,  you  must  be  calm,  precious. 
A  wicked  man,  unwillingly  assisted  by  a 
weak  fool  and  a  brazen  woman,  have 
deceived  you.  Until  I  met  you  I  knew 
not  how  to  love,  had  thought  not  of  love. 
I—" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  213 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  bounding 
away  from  me,  exclaimed  : 

"But  where  is  the  proof?  She  showed 
me  a  marriage  certificate!" 

"It  was  forged." 

"How  do  I  know?  Oh,  I  must  have 
proof!  I  know  that  Brown  is  a  scoun 
drel,  but  that  does  not  prove  that  the 
woman  is  not  your  wife.  Mr.  Barker, 
you  must  excuse  my  impetuosity.  I  must 
go  down  to  the  kitchen." 

I  arose  and  implored  her  to  remain,  but 
she  brushed  past  me  and  hastened  away. 


214  MRS,    ANNIE  GREEN. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

At  supper  Mrs.  Green  was  calm,  but 
she  would  hardly  trust  herself  to  look  at 
me.  The  doctor  looked  at  her  anxiously. 

"Annie  an'  Barker,  here,  have  been 
havin'  a  high  old  time,"  said  Mr.  Glad- 
well.  "Been  a  gittin'  off  dialogues  about 
folks  that's  been  bit  by  mad  dogs  an'  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  Made  more  fuss  than 
a  barn  full  of  rats.  Annie,  what  makes 
your  hand  trimble  that  way?  W'y,  my 
sakes  alive,  gal,  you'll  have  the  palsy  if 
you  keep  on." 

"Dan,"  said  Mrs.  Gladwell,  in  a  voice  of 
gentle  reproof,  "don't  try  to  skeer  the 
life  outen  a  body.  There  ain't  no  danger 
of  her  havin'  the  palsy,  an'  you  know  it." 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN.  215 

"I  reckon  I  know  that,"  the  old  man 
rejoined.  "My  goodness,  has  it  come  to 
such  a  pass  that  a  man  can't  say  nothin' 
around  the  house?  It  does  look  that 
way,  Fll  be  hanged  if  it  don't." 

"Well,  Dan,  we  won't  argy  about  it." 
"No,  I   reckon  not,  for  there  ain't  no 


room." 


Immediately  after  supper  I  went  to  my 
cabin.  I  wanted  to  be  alone.  I  knew 
that  I  was  happy,  yet  I  felt  miserable;  I 
knew  that  I  was  miserable,  yet  I  felt 
happy.  One  moment  it  was  enough  to 
know  that  Annie  loved  me;  the  next 
moment  it  was  too  much  to  know  that  she 
doubted  me.  Some  one  tapped  on  the 
door. 

"Come  in,"  I  said. 

Dr.  Hill  entered.  "Well,"  said  he, 
"how  do  you  find  yourself?" 

"Oh,  I  can't  complain." 


216  MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

"Have  much  of  a  talk  with  Annie?" 

"Yes,  we  talked—" 

"Until  you  both  became  excited,"  he 
suggested. 

"At  times  we  were  excited,  but  upon 
the  whole,  I  was  remarkably  calm." 

"Annie  cut  up  like  an  actress,  didn't 
she?" 

"She  was  much  agitated." 

"Did  you  come  to  any  conclusion?" 

"Well,  just  as  I  thought  we  had,  Annie 
sprang  away  from  me  and  declared  that 
she  could  not  believe  me." 

"I  told  you  of  her  peculiar  disposition. 
About  her  there  is  so  little  to  be  con 
jectured — so  little  necessity  of  anyone 
having  to  exercise  faith  that  she  some 
times  demands  too  much  of  others.  She 
is  trying  her  best  to  believe  you,  yet  can 
not,  for  this  reason:  She  does  not  see 
why  anything  that  is  true  can  not  be 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  21 7 

proved  at  once,  leaving  no  possible  sur 
mise  of  doubt.  She  does  not  believe  that 
the  woman  whom  Brown  introduced  is 
your  wife,  and  yet,  can  not  believe  she  is 
not.  The  great  anxiety  which  she  feels 
and  the  hope  which  she  has  in  favor  of 
the  truth  of  your  statement,  makes  her 
more  fearful  of  disappointment.  At  times 
we  are  all  afraid  to  believe." 

"What  you  say  is  doubtless  true,  doc 
tor,  but  being  true  does  not  make  the 
perplexity  less  galling.  The  question  now 
is,  how  can  I  convince  her?  Brown,  Cart- 
wright,  and  the  woman — whose  name  I 
have  never  heard — are  the  only  persons 
who  can  establish  my  truth  and  innocence, 
but  they  are  the  last  persons  who  are 
likely  to  come  forward  and  testify.  I 
would  send  Cartwright  a  beseeching 
letter,  but  I  know  that  he  is  Brown's 
slave." 


MRS.    ANNIE    GREEN. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  suggest. 
Say,  if  the  woman  claims  to  be  your  wife, 
why  don't  you  demand  a  marriage  certifi 
cate?" 

"She  has  a  spurious  one.  She  showed 
it  to  your  sister." 

"I'll  swear,  old  fellow,  things  do  look  a 
little  bad,  but  I  am  confident  that  it  will 
all  be  cleared  up  sooner  or  later." 

"Later,  I  am  afraid." 

"We  don't  know;  it  may  be  sooner. 
After  Brown  discovers  that  his  importun 
ities  are  in  vain,  and  especially  after  he 
discovers  that  Annie  has  lost  her  money, 
he  will  quietly  withdraw,  and  possibly 
may  not  be  unwilling  to  make  amends  for 
the  wrongs  he  has  committed.  Don't  let 
it  worry  you  any  more  than  you  can  help. 
"Well,  I'll  leave  you." 

The  next  morning,  at  the  breakfast 
table,  Mrs.  Green  appeared  to  be  in  excel- 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN.  2 19 

lent  humor.  She  laughed  at  the  way  I 
had  combed  my  hair,  and  vowed  that  I 
could  never  become  so  neat  as  her  brother. 
Dr.  Hill  must  have  fully  explained  to  the 
old  people,  for  during  the  day  they  sought 
every  opportunity  of  encouraging  private 
interviews  between  Mrs.  Green  and  me. 
Again  we  sat  alone  by  the  great  log  fire. 

"You  seem  to  be  in  good  humor 
to-day,11  said  I. 

"Yes,  I  seem  to  be." 

"Well,  are  you  not  in  a  good  humor?" 

"Excellent." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  am  happy." 

I  had  never  seen  her  face  so  beautiful; 
I  had  never  seen  her  smile  so  bright. 

"Why  are  you  happy?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  now,"  she  rejoined,  mischiev 
ously  raising  her  eyebrows,  "that  is  a 
pretty  question  to  ask.  You  may  ask 


22O  MRS,    ANNIE   GREEN. 

people  why  they  are  miserable,  but  you 
should  not  ask  them  why  they  are  happy." 

"I  confess,  Annie  —  may  I  call  you 
Annie?" 

"Of  course." 

"Well,  I  confess,  Annie,  that  I  do  not 
see  the  force  of  your  argument." 

"Oh,  neither  do  I." 

"But  now  tell  me  why  I  find  this  change 
in  you." 

She  placed  a  stool  near  my  chair  and 
sat  down.  Her  face  was  serene  in  its 
loveliness,  and  in  her  eyes  there  glowed 
the  warm  light  of  perfect  confidence  and 
true  devotion.  I  kissed  her  glowing 
cheek  again  and  again. 

"I  believe  you  are  the  truest  and  noblest 
man  in  the  world,"  she  said.  "No  one 
but  you  would  have  gone  through  so 
much  merely  to  cling  to  a  hope  that  every 
moment  threatened  to  break." 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  221 

"Annie,  if  you  love  me,  if  you  believe 
that  I  am  true,  why  can  not  our  destinies 
be  joined?" 

"They  can  be,  they  must  be.  Why,  I 
would  rather  be  miserable  with  you,  Mr. 
Barker,  than  to  be  happy  with  any  one 
else." 

"Why,  what  a  little  paradox  you  are." 

"Well,  I  would,  for  with  you  misery 
would  be  within  itself  a  sort  of  happiness." 

"You  haven't  answered  my  question  yet 
What  has  caused  this  great  change  in 
you?" 

"A  letter." 

"From  whom?" 

"From  the  woman  who  claimed  to  be 
your  wife.  Oh,  everything  is  plain  now 
and  I  know  how  foolish  I  was  for  doubt 
ing  you." 

The  letter  that  had  caused  such  a  won 
derful  change  in  Mrs.  Green  was  simply  a 


222  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

confession  of  the  woman  who  had  pre 
tended  to  be  my  wife.  "I  was  hired  by 
Brown,"  the  writer  said,  "and  probably 
never  would  have  confessed  the  truth  had 
it  not  been  for  Brown's  villainy." 

"There  does  not  remain  a  single  doubt 
in  your  mind,  does  there,  Annie?"  I  asked. 

"No,  not  one.  Oh,  how  foolish  I  have 
been.  Everything  is  plain  now,  but  at 
one  time  everything  was  dark.  But  I 
could  not  help  it.  I  have  always  been 
morbidly  incredulous." 

"You  do  not  owe  me  an  apology,"  I 
replied.  "Now  that  our  troubles  in  one 
direction  are  over,  now  that  I  can  dis 
passionately  look  back  upon  them,  I  fully 
appreciate  the  position  in  which  you  were 
placed." 

"Did  I  not  tell  you,  dear,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  change  of  manner,  "that  I 
had  lost  all  my  money?" 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  223 

"Yes,  I  think  you  did." 

"You  think  I  did?  Why,  did  it  con 
cern  you  so  little  that  you  do  not  now 
remember  what  I  said?" 

"I  was  more  interested  in  you  than  in 
your  money,  Annie." 

"What  a  model  man  you  must  be." 

"I  do  not  assert  that  I  am  a  model 
man." 

"Oh,  of  course  not.  If  you  were  to 
make  such  a  claim,  the  model  would  be 
broken,  for  men  are  rarely  what  they 
claim  to  be;  but  before  I  forget  it  let  me 
tell  you  that  I  have  some  money — enough 
to  build  us  a  house  on  one  of  these 
hills." 

"I  have  quite  enough  for  that,  Annie, 
and  have  already  selected  the  site.  I  am 
glad  that  you  do  not  care  to  live  in  town." 

"And  I  am  glad  that  you  prefer  the 
country." 


224  MRS-    ANNIE   GREEN. 

"By  the  way,  I  want  to  ask  you  some 
thing,  something  that  has  caused  me 
hours  of  restless  speculation." 

"Well,  you  may  ask  me  anything  and  I 
will  promise  to  tell  you,  that  is,  if  I  can." 

"In  this  instance  I  am  sure  you  can. 
Why  did  you  marry  Mr.  Green?" 

"I  will  tell  you.  When  my  mother  was 
a  young  woman,  she  and  Mr.  Green  were 
engaged  to  be  married.  The  day  was 
appointed  and  everything  was  ready  when 
my  mother  met  my  father.  They  fell  in 
love  with  each  other,  and  my  mother, 
knowing  that  to  marry  Mr.  Green  would 
be  wrong,  sent  him  a  note  breaking  the 
engagement.  Green  remained  loyal  to 
his  old  love,  and,  touched  by  his  fidelity, 
when  I  was  quite  small,  my  mother  told 
Mr.  Green  that  when  I  grew  up  he  might, 
if  he  could  gain  my  consent,  marry  me. 
Shortly  before  mother  died,  she  told  me 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  225 

hem  she  had  treated  Mr.  Green  and  asked 
me  to  marry  him.  I  could  not  refuse, 
and  some  time  afterward,  when  Mr.  Green 
came  down  into  the  country  and  asked 
me  to  be  his  wife,  I  consented  without  a 
moment's  hesitation.  Now,  you  know." 

"And  I  must  say  that  you  played  the 
part  of  a  foolish  heroine." 

"Yes,  and  I  did  not  see  how  mother 
could  expect  me  to  marry  him,  knowing 
that  she  herself  could  not  marry  a  man 
whom  she  did  not  love,  but  I  could  not 
reason  with  her  or  deny  her  wish." 

Dr.  Hill  entered. 

"You  seem  to  be  getting  along  pretty 
well,"  said  he,  as  he  drew  up  a  chair  and 
sat  down. 

"Oh,  we  are,"  Annie  replied.    " 

"Everything  settled,  eh?" 

"Yes,   and    on    a    highly    satisfactory 

basis,"  I  answered. 
If 


226  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN, 

"Glad  to  hear  it" 

Annie  handed  him  the  letter  which  had 
convinced  her  of  my  truthfulness. 

"Estelle  Jones,  eh?"  said  the  doctor, 
when  he  had  read  the  letter.  "Rather 
straightforward  in  the  way  she  expresses 
herself.  Glad  that  she  has  come  around 
all  right.  I  was  afraid  that  she  would 
hold  out  and  drive  Annie  crazy.  Have 
you  told  uncle?" 

"No,"  Annie  replied. 

"When  are  you  going  to  be  married?" 

"We  haven't  fixed  a  day  yet,"  I  an 
swered,  "but  I  think  that  the  marriage 
should  take  place  as  soon  as  convenient. 
We  have  no  elaborate  preparations  to 
make." 

"Not  going  to  make  a  display?" 

"Of  course  not." 

"I  didn't  know  but  you  would  go  to 
town  and  parade  around  a  little/' 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  227 

"Brother,  you  are  so  provoking.  You 
know  very  well  that  we  don't  want  to 
make  any  display." 

1  'Going  to  invite  Brown  and  Cartwright, 
I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  of  course,"  she  replied,  with  good- 
humored  mockery.  "We  could  not  well 
get  along  without  them." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gladwell  were  not  sur 
prised  when  we  told  them  of  the  approach 
ing  marriage.  The  old  lady  was  much 
pleased  and  the  old  man  wished  that  he 
might  never  stir  again  if  it  wasn't  an  ex 
cellent  match.  When  I  remarked  that  we 
would  live  in  the  country  instead  of  going 
back  to  town,  the  old  man  said: 

"That's  where  you  show  your  sense.  I 
told  you  all  the  time,"  he  added,  turning 
to  his  wife,  "that  Barker  had  sense,  but 
you  wouldn't  believe  me." 

"For  pity  sake,  Dan,  can't  you  tell  the 


228  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

truth  once  in  a  while?  You  know  very 
well  that  I  always  did  say  that  Mr.  Bar 
ker  was  a  smart  man,  an'  more  than  that, 
when  they  accused  him  of  bein'  crazy,  I 
vowed  and  declared  that  he  wa'n't,  an' 
you  vowed  and  declared  that  you  believed 
he  was.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?" 

"Oh,  well,  we  won't  argy  about  it.  It's 
no  use  to  argy  with  a  woman,  Barker. 
Specially" — he  added  with  a  wink — "when 
she's  got  the  facts  on  her  side.  Well, 
when  is  the  affair  to  come  off?" 

"Next  Wednesday." 

"Ah,  hah,  just  a  week  from  to-day. 
Guess  I'll  have  to  knock  down  a  shoat  for 
the  occasion." 

"We  don't  want  anything—" 

"Never  mind,  I  know  what  I  am  about. 
It  would  never  do  to  get  married  and  not 
have  a  shoat  for  dinner." 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

One  morning,  just  two  days  before  the 
time  appointed  for  our  marriage,  Dr.  Hill 
told  me  that  Brown  was  in  the  neighbor 
hood.  "I  met  him  in  the  road,  but  did 
not  speak  to  him,1'  the  doctor  went  on. 
"He  had  a  gun,  and  had  doubtless  come 
for  a  hunt." 

"I  wonder  if  he  knows  that  I  am 
here?" 

"I  should  think  that  he  does." 

"Yes,  and  I  think  that  he  is  somewhat 
rash  to  throw  himself  in  my  way.  I  don't 
want  to  kill  him,  but — well,  I  don't  want 
to  meet  him." 

"I  don't  suppose  he  knows  that  Annie 
is  here." 


230  MRS,   ANNIE  GREEN. 

"Even  if  he  did,  I  shouldn't  think  that 
he  would  come  to  the  house." 

"I  wouldn't  if  I  were  in  his  place." 
That  afternoon,  forgetful  of  Brown, 
forgetful  of  everything  but  the  woman 
who  was  goon  to  become  my  wife,  I 
strolled  along  the  rugged  edge  of  a  ra 
vine.  I  had  stopped  to  gaze  at  a  massive 
rock  when  I  heard  the  report  of  a  gun. 
The  next  moment  I  saw  Brown  standing 
about  a  hundred  yards  away.  He  had 
evidently  not  discovered  me.  I  Was  not 
afmed  and  I  did  not  care  to  meet  him. 
I  climbed  a  little  way  up  the  side  of  a 
bluff  and  concealed  myself  behind  a  rock. 
From  my  hiding-place  I  could  see  Brown. 
He  slowly  walked  toward  me.  Suddenly 
he  stopped  and  uttered  an  exclamation. 
He  gazed  intently  at  something.  I  looked 
around  and  saw  some  one  approach 
ing.  It  was  Cartwright.  By  this  time 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  231 

the  two  men  were  walking  toward  each 
other. 

"Cartwright,  I  don't  want  to  have  any 
trouble  with  you!"  Brown  exclaimed. 

Cartwright  had  drawn  a  pistol.  He  did 
not  reply  to  Brown. 

"Stop!"  Brown  exclaimed.  "Don't 
point  that  pistol  at  me.  You  wouldn't 
shoot  a  frog." 

"No,  but  I'll  shoot  a  snake!"  Cart 
wright  exclaimed,  and  then  he  fired. 
Brown  threw  up  his  gun  and  fired  both 
barrels.  Cartwright  fell,  but  raised  him 
self  on  his  elbow,  and,  with  an  effort, 
leveled  his  pistol  at  Brown. 

"Damn  you,  don't  shoot  me  again. 
What  the  devil—" 

Bang! 

Brown  fell  on  his  face,  and  Cartwright 
sank  back.  I  hastened  to  the  house. 
Every  one  was  excited.  Dr.  Hill,  the 


232  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

old  man  and  I  lost  no  time  in  hasten 
ing  to  the  scene  of  the  tragedy.  Brown 
was  dead,  but  Cartwright  was  still  alive. 
We  telegraphed  to  Brown's  friends,  and 
an  undertaker  was  immediately  sent 
down.  Cartwright  seemed  to  be  improv 
ing,  but  the  doctor  said  that  his  case  was 
hopeless. 

"Brown  is  dead,  isn't  he?"  the  wounded 
man  asked  one  evening,  as  he  lay  in  my 
cabin. 

"Yes,"  I  replied. 

"I'm  glad  of  it.  By  the  way,  are  you 
and  Mrs.  Green  married?" 

"Not  yet.  We  were  to  have  been 
married  several  days  ago,  but  postponed 
it  on  account  of  the  tragedy." 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  caused  even  a 
temporary  postponement,  but  I  had  to 
kill  that  scoundrel.  There  is  one  fea 
ture  about  it  that  I  can  not  help  but 


MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN.  233 

regret,   and    that  is,    Brown   has    killed 


me." 


"Why  did  you  kill  him?"  Dr.  Hill 
asked. 

"Well,  I  had  several  reasons,  the  main 
one  being  the  fact  that  he  bought  the 
house  where  I  lived,  and,  while  I  was 
away,  turned  my  wife  and  children  into 
the  street.  My  wife  died  shortly  after 
ward.  She  was  dying  of  consumption 
when  he  turned  her  out.  My  children  are 
at  their  grandfather's — father's — " 

He  ceased  speaking.  Dr.  Hill  looked 
at  him,  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"His  last  joke  has  been  written.     He 

is  gone." 

****** 

Our  wedding-day  arrived.  A  number 
of  the  neighbors  were  invited.  The  old 
man  had  "knocked  down"  several  shoats, 
and  the  old  lady,  busy  with  her  cakes  and 


234  MRS,    ANNIE   GREEN. 

loaves  of  bread,  was  about  as  happy,  her 
husband  remarked,  as  it  was  possible  for  a 
woman  to  be. 

"I  reckon  women  can  be  as  happy  as 
anybody  else,"  she  snapped.  "Get  out  of 
my  way.  Plague  take  the  man,  he'll  turn 
over  the  table." 

"I've  been  here  some  time,"  he  replied, 
"and  I've  never  turned  over  a  table  yit," 

We  had  sent  Mrs.  Hicks  an  invitation 
to  be  present  at  our  wedding,  but  had  no 
idea  that  she  would  come.  She  did  come, 
however.  She  and  little  Vilsie  arrived 
the  day  before  the  marriage.  Vilsie  was 
delighted  to  see  me,  and  declared  that  I 
must  throw  aside  everything  and  write 
her  a  story.  I  was  in  too  much  of  a  state 
of  happy  indolence  to  have  complied  had 
not  a  gentle  voice,  which  I  have  since 
that  time  learned  to  heed,  urged  me  to 
accommodate  the  child. 


MRS.   ANNIE  GREEN. 

Srtow  was  falling  on  the  wedding-day, 
but  this  made  the  fire  seem  brighter,  and 
lent  an  additional  air  of  comfort  to  the 
sitting-room.  Annie  was  plainly  dressed. 
I  had  never  before  seen  her  so  beautiful. 
Everybody  was  in  high  spirits,  and  when 
the  old  minister  had  performed  the  simple 
ceremony,  every  one  pressed  forward  to 
shake  hands  with  us.  The  doctor  was 
full  of  pranks,  and  old  man  Gladwell  kept 
the  company  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  fellow,  "corrte  on 
out  now,  and  let  us  eat  a  bite.  We 
haven't  got  much,  but  I  guess  we  can 
make  out.  I  wanted  a  lot  of  stuff  cooked 
up,  but  wife  she  objected.  She  said  the 
company  that  would  be  here  wasn't  used 
to  much  nohow,  and  she  didn't  want  to  be 
the  cause  of  'em  eating  themselves  sick." 

"Dan,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  "it  is 
astonishing  that  you  can't  tell  the  truth. 


236  MRS.    ANNIE   GREEN. 

I  never  saw  such  a  man  since  the  day  I 
was  born  to  die.  I  never,  I  never  did. 
You  keep  a  body  pestered  all  the  time." 

"Well,  we  won't  argy  about  it.  Come, 
all  hands." 

I  have  never  seen  a  more  bountiful 
feast,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  happier 

company. 

*  *  •  •         :  *  • 

Several  years  have  passed  since  Annie 
and  I  were  married,  years  of  happiness. 
Our  house  away  up  here  on  the  hill  is  a 
perfect  paradise,  Annie  says,  and  I  have 
many  reasons  for  believing  that  she  is 
right.  Mrs.  Hicks  is  married  again. 
Annie  and  I  gave  her  a  farm  for  a 
wedding  present. 

[THE  END.] 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 

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1954LU 


LD  21-100m-l, '54(1887816)476 


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